Past Lives Linked
by Ziva- Zia- Z
Summary: They had never met until she walked into the bullpen. But somehow, when they made eye contact across the office space, he knew her, though he'd never met her before. As it turned out, some lives are linked by much more than just a first meeting. Some lives are linked by the past. McGiva.
1. Chapter 1

**Past Lives Linked**

**Rifiuto: Non Miriena**

**Summary: They had never met until she walked into the bullpen. But somehow, when they made eye contact across the office space, he knew her, though he'd never met her before. As it turned out, some lives are linked by much more than just a first meeting. Some lives are linked by the past. McGiva.**

_"We may not live in the past, but the past lives with us."_

_- Samuel Pisar (1929 -)__, __Holocaust Survivor_

Israel

_The breeze tugged at the curtains, sending them fluttering above the floor. Like a camera drinking in the opening of a film as it pans about the room, the breeze moved through the space, brushing lightly at the crumpled sheets and dancing over the clothes strewn about the floor before making its way into the small hallway towards the living room. The smell of coffee danced on the edge of the wind, before moving out to the small back steps, where the current occupants of the house sat, sharing a cup and watching the desert before them._

_The woman shifted until her back lay against his side, head resting on his shoulder. She sighed, reaching a hand down to take his with a gentle squeeze. He glanced down at their hands, returning the squeeze, before bringing her hand to his lips. They sat in silence for several minutes, before he asked,_

_"What are you thinking?" She sighed, letting her gaze drift off into the distance._

_"That something will go wrong, and we will be captured and then separated before we are killed."_

_He shifted, tugging until she faced him, and met her gaze. It was haunted, her eyes seeing the horrors she'd witnessed all those years ago. It was a look he desperately wished he could erase, but he knew it wasn't that simple. She had seen things, had borne witness to tortures that would drive any sane person into the asylum. But so had he; he himself had witnessed horrors he would never forget, could never erase from his memory, though they would fade with time. After a moment, he lifted her chin. "Hey, look at me." Slowly, their gazes met, and he gave her a soft, reassuring smile. "It's over, remember? No one can hurt us here. We're safe." Gently, he brushed a tear off her cheek. "And we're together."_

_She nodded, finding comfort in his words before leaning up and kissing him. He tasted like coffee, and sunshine, and sex, and after a moment, she pulled away and climbed to her feet, holding out a hand._

_He took her hand, climbing to his feet and following her back into the house, casting one last glance over his shoulder. It didn't seem real that they were actually here, in this dry, hot country, that had- while not fully welcomed them with open arms- allowed them entrance as they, like hundreds of others, sought refuge. It had been months since they'd arrived, since the end of the horrors, and yet, he could still, on exceedingly hot days, smell the unforgettable stench of flesh burning and taste the dry, rancid dust of human ash on his tongue._

_It was those exceedingly tough days and nights that he sought out the sweet taste of her skin and the smell of her hair; reaching out for the feel of her body beneath his to reassure himself that they were alive. It was those times when he buried himself in the softness of her flesh that he realized just how lucky they were. They, unlike millions, had managed to escape, to survive, despite the hell they'd endured along the way._

_He would never forget the terrors that had welcomed him as he'd stepped off the train with hundreds of others; the sight of thousands already subjected to Hell that waited to greet the new arrivals- bodies so thin, how they held their heads up was a mystery, the familiar striped uniforms given to all upon arrival hanging off these walking, living skeletons, and eyes so big and desperate in sunken faces, drinking hungrily in the clothing those that stepped off the train wore- vultures sizing up new meat, waiting for the right moment to strike._

_"Hey, are you all right?" He turned back to her; the worry in her eyes deepening at the look on his face. He forced a tight smile, squeezing her hand and pulling her close._

_"I'm okay, I promise. Just... got lost in the past for a moment." She nodded as he kissed her. She slid an arm around his neck, holding him to her. When he finally pulled away, she met his gaze and then tugged him into the house. He followed her into the kitchen, taking a seat at the worn oak table as she let go of his hand and made her way to the stove._

_"What shall we have for lunch? We don't have much, but-"_

_"Compared to before, it's a feast, right?" He finished. She stopped, hand on the burner knob. He soon heard her choke on a soft sob, and quickly got up. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to make you cry." His arms slid around her waist, holding her to him as he buried his face in her hair and hummed softly to her. She took his hand, squeezing gently._

_"No, it... it is not you, I... I just... I never thought I would ever see food again, as silly as that sounds." She turned her head, meeting his gaze once more. He shook his head._

_"No, it's not silly. After what we went through, it's a normal fear, a rational fear. There were days when I considered the linen of our uniforms over the meager rations we were given." She chuckled softly._

_"I spent one night hiding in the sewers and... at one point... even the rats that shared the pipes with me looked... what is the word... appetizing?" He pressed a kiss to her forehead; her eyes closed on instinct. When he pulled away, he took her face in his hands. _

_"We will never go through that again, understood? Never again. We survived Hell, and because we survived... now we will thrive." She nodded, burrowing into his chest. _


	2. Chapter 2

**Rifiuto: Non Miriena**

**A/N: First off, I have gotten to know several WWII vets because of the bookstores I work at; they were my best customers, and even after the store I worked at closed, they still seek me out. I actually spend time at my usual cafe with them, and they sit and tell me stories of their experiences from the war. One of my vets- I call him Purple Heart, because he wears his Purple Heart everywhere- was an African American Corporal in the Marines, who was injured in Guadalcanal and awarded the purple heart for his valor. I know fighter pilots, Japanese-American sergeants who fought in the German Theatre, African American marines and last weekend, I met a German man who was part of the White Rose Resistance in Munich... I know sailors who watched their brethren drown as the Arizona sank, I know Vietnam vets and WWII Nurses... and I've even met Holocaust survivors that moved to America and later served their adoptive country in the wars that followed. This story is for them. **

**Second, each chapter will be marked at the beginning with a quote- doing with the Second War, by someone who lived during that time- be they soldier, Holocaust survivor, rescuer, diplomat, ordinary citizen or otherwise.**

**Thanks to Guest and Crawcolady for reviewing 1.**

_"The work of a thousand years is nothing but rubble." _

_- Dr. Carl Goerdeler (1884 - 1945), German politician_

_NCIS HQ_

_Washington, D.C._

"Morning, Tim."

He looked up; Gibbs sat at his desk, gaze lingering on Kate's desk. Or, her former desk, rather.

The former Secret Service agent now resided beneath a beautiful cherry tree in the Roanoke Cemetery in Huntington County, Indiana, having taken a bullet to the brain during a shootout with rouge terrorist Ari Haswari. Her death shook the team to its core.

It hadn't gotten any easier when Haswari's control officer had shown up, sending the team into further unease. But she was gone now, Haswari was dead- having returned to Israel thanks to the kiss of Gibbs's bullet- and they could get on with their lives.

Tim made his way to his desk, dropping his gear behind it before taking a seat and booting up his computer. He let himself become lost in his work, ignoring the ding! of the elevator doors as they slid open, expecting Tony, his surviving partner, and the resident clown of the team.

But the footsteps weren't Tony's. In fact, they weren't footsteps at all. Whomever had exited the elevator made no noise as they made their way down the hall. "Special Agent Gibbs?" He lifted his head at the soft voice; she stood within the entrance of the bullpen, bag over her shoulder, headscarf covering her head, the tan uniform clearly stating that she was a control officer- not the one they'd met who had come to take Haswari back to Israel- but still, a control officer. Gibbs looked up, his now dull blue eyes lighting briefly at the sight of the woman standing in their bullpen. She pulled out her badge. "My name is Ziva _Da_vid-"

"Israeli Mossad?" Both turned to him as he spoke up and climbed to his feet, unable to stop himself as he drank in the woman as he moved towards her. She opened her mouth to speak but stopped, studying him as he got closer.

"Very good that you made that connection- _Da_vid- Israeli Mossad- Agent-"

"McGee. Timothy McGee." He held out a hand; she glanced at it, before flipping her badge closed and slipping it back into her pocket.

"A gentleman. You are rare." She purred, taking his hand.

Their palms connected, and before he could stop himself, Tim had pulled her into him, planting his mouth on hers. Her eyes widened briefly, before they closed and she drank him in, reaching up with her free hand to grasp at his shirt. Neither heard the elevator doors open or the sound of Tony shuffling into the room. "Morni-"

The Senior Field Agent stopped in the entrance to the bullpen, dark eyes darting back and forth. Gibbs sat at his desk, a stunned look in his eye and McGee... his probie was standing in the middle of the room, kissing some strange woman dressed in a tan uniform and a headscarf. Either he'd overslept and this was some weird dream, or he'd stepped off the elevator into a strange alternate reality episode of the _Twilight Zone_- the original series.

Finally, Tim opened his eyes, green orbs widening in shock as he forced himself to pull away from her. He struggled to catch his breath, unsure of what to say, for fear he'd find himself kissing her again and be unable to stop. So instead, he stepped back, swallowing thickly. She gave him a small grin, reaching up and slipping her headscarf off, revealing a tumble of beautiful, rich dark chocolate curls. A tiny part of Tim longed to reach out and run his fingers through them, to tangle his hands in them and tug, to pull her close and kiss her as he kept his fingers in those strands. Were they as silky as they looked?

"Um... who are you? And... oh yeah, what's goin' on here?" All three turned to Tony, who looked as though he'd just rolled out of bed- probably because he had. Of the entire team, Tony had taken Kate's death particularly hard. Not that Tony would ever admit it, but he'd loved her- deeply and truly. Kate had been more than just his partner, she'd been his true love. And now she was gone.

A moment passed, before the woman turned and strode towards him. "Ziva David, Mossad." She held out a hand, but when he didn't take it to shake, she dropped her hand, turning back to Gibbs, reaching into her bag and pulling out a green folder. "These are my orders, signed by Director Shepard," She went to the older man's desk, holding out the folder. She cast a quick glance over her shoulder towards Tim, a smile tugging at her lips. "We're going to be working together."


	3. Chapter 3

**Rifiuto: Non Miriena**

**Thanks to Crawcolady for reviewing 2.**

_"This is a fight between a free world and a slave world."_

_ - Henry A. Wallace (1888 - 1965), Vice President_

1943, April 18

Warsaw Ghetto

Warsaw, Poland

_"Ima! Zahrah!"_

_The two women looked up as the girl rushed into the room. The child was covered in dirt, her hair a mess and she was missing her coat. Instantly, the older girl dropped the meager potato she'd been peeling and rushed to her little sister. She brushed a strand of hair out of her eyes as she knelt down. "Chava, what happened? Where is your coat?" As her eyes scanned the girl, she saw a cut beneath her eye and reached up-_

_The child flinched away._

_"It was stolen. A boy did not have one, and so he pushed me down and took mine."_

_"Off of you?"_

_"Ken, Zahrah." The older girl turned to their mother._

_"We have to do something, Ima." But her mother just shook her head._

_"What do you suggest we do, Zahrah? Inform the Germans? A Jew stealing another Jew's coat will not interest them in the least." Her mother replied, returning to peeling potatoes. The older girl watched her mother for a moment, before she turned back to her sister and stood, pressing a kiss to the child's forehead. Then, she grabbed her coat and draped it around her sister's shoulders before pushing her towards their mother._

_"Where are you going, Zahrah?" She turned back to her sister._

_"We need meat. I will return, Ima, I promise." Then, before her mother could warn her, she left, shutting the door behind her. She was silent as she walked out into the street, the weak sunlight providing meager warmth against the mid-April chill. Unlike other parts of Europe, the Jews within the ghetto did not need to wear the star, for it was all of one race residing within the walled fortress. Only the Germans saw them when they came to round up people and remove them to the camps, and they wore the same green uniforms- some had shiny medals on their chests or hats, a sign that they were far superior than the meager Jewish they herded like cattle from the ghetto._

_She made her way through the streets, head down, her light blue sweater pulled tight around her. The meager few dollars she needed for the meat was tucked into the pocket of her skirt, and she ignored the stares of the children sitting in the gutters, dark eyes hungry and pained as they watched passersby for the slightest bit of sympathy, waiting for the right moment to strike and steal whatever the person who stopped possessed._

_Zahrah glanced over her shoulder at a few children watching her; she narrowed her eyes, and the kids quickly scrambled to their spider legs and scampered off. Though she couldn't blame them, she didn't feel much sympathy for them either. Her family was in as bad a position as they were, as were all those who lived within the ghetto. The winter before had been brutal- food had been exceedingly scarce, and quickly, disease had followed, taking thousands from this hell to the Promised Land. Her baby sister had been one of the thousands who had died from typhus the winter before, and it had been a struggle to keep the rest of the family from getting sick._

_A bubble of anger rose in her chest; these were Chava's formative years, she should be out riding her bicycle and playing with friends, having fun, being a child. She shouldn't be here, struggling to survive. She sighed; unlike Chava, she and their two older siblings- Miriam and Levi- remembered a time when they were allowed out on the street among gentiles; when they could go to cinemas and restaurants and shop in stores without being threatened or accused of something because of their heritage. As the third of five children, Zahrah remembered a time when she'd gone to school without having to wear a star upon her chest, when her friends included those whom were not just Jewish-_

_She ducked into the small butcher shop, shutting the door softly behind her. The owner, Mr. Amsel smiled softly at her; a kindly old man who'd lost his wife to the typhus outbreak, he often tried to slip a few extra cuts of meat into the small package she often bought, knowing that Ira and Hannah had four mouths to feed. She nodded to him, going to the counter and pulling out the money. Quickly, she counted it before holding it out in exchange for the wrapped package. As she left the shop, his voice stopped her. "Dress warm tomorrow, Zahrah." She turned back, confused. "I fear it will rain."_

_She left the store with his words buzzing in her head, trying hard to figure out their meaning, but kept coming up empty. With the package of meat clutched tightly to her chest, she hurried through the streets, keeping an eye out for the children she knew would be watching her. But she stopped when she saw the flash of a familiar dark blue coat up ahead. Still holding the package, she hurried to catch up to to the boy._

_"Hey! Stop!" As the boy rounded a corner, she chased after him, dropping the package. She skidded to a stop, hearing footsteps behind her, and turned in time to see a little girl grab the package and dash off. "Hey! That is mine!" She glanced behind her, but the boy wearing her sister's coat had disappeared, and she debated going after him, before deciding that the coat was a lost cause. As she returned to the street, she searched for the girl-_

_She kicked at a rock. Why had she chased after the boy? She should have just let him have it, the meat was more important, and now, it was gone- in the hands of a child and off to feed another family in as desperate a situation as her own. She quickly dug into the pocket of her skirt, but she'd spent the meager amount of money they'd had earlier, for the meat in question. She couldn't go back to the butcher- how would she explain this to Mr. Amsel? Zahrah took a deep breath. _

_More importantly, how was she to explain this to Ima? _


	4. Chapter 4

**Rifiuto: Non Miriena**

**A/N: Sorry about seeming defensive- went to dinner with my boyfriend and his family last night- his father is one of those "the Holocaust never happened" people- a real jackass- and before I could say anything, my boyfriend jumped on his father for what he said (my bf's family is Navy on his mother's side and Army on his father's) and after that, his father then proceeded to go after me, that I'm 'not good enough for his son, and if he's in a relationship/marries anyone, it should be with a woman whose family is _also_ military, not in the arts'.**

** According to him, artists don't contribute anything to the world, we just take up space- I didn't get a word in edgewise, my boyfriend took care of it; even though I had a few choice words for the man. So when I got home, I was hurt and angry, and that A/N was some of what I _didn't_ get to_ say_ to my possible future-father-in-law, and I took it out on you guys, and I shouldn't have. I'm sorry. I shudder at the day that I _ever_ have to call that man 'Dad.' But I love my bf and would put up with his jackass father for the sake of our relationship and that fact that we love each other, so...**

**And to Guest- as Purple Heart says, "I got it for being wounded yes, but _I_ look at it also as having the valor to put up with a bullet in my thigh while I was fighting Japanese. The medal makes the phantom sting sting just a little bit less."**

**Thanks to Reader for reviewing 1, 2 and 3 and Guest for reviewing 2.**

_"Blood alone moves the wheels of history."_

_- Benito Mussolini (1883 - 1945), Fascist Dictator of Italy_

_NCIS HQ_

The silence that met her words deafened her. She glanced around, all three men stared at her, their expressions unreadable. After a moment, the Team Leader got to his feet, snatching her orders off his desk, and strode past her, out of the bullpen towards the director's office. Once he was gone, she turned back to the two agents. The older one watched her, narrowing his eyes. He'd since taken a seat at his desk. "So... let me get this straight... you are... working with us?"

She nodded. "Yes. Why is that so hard for you to believe, Agent-"

"DiNozzo." Tony replied, glaring at her before rummaging around in his desk and finding his extra hairbrush. As he headed off to men's room, she turned to Tim.

"I must say, I have never... been welcomed like that before." She whispered, meandering towards him. He returned to his desk, taking a seat and checking his e-mail, unaware of the disappointment in her eyes. But when he looked up next, she had followed, and settled herself on the edge of his desk. "Have we met before?" He met her gaze, thinking. A moment passed before he shook his head.

"No. Unless you've ever been to California." She_ tsked_, shaking her head and moving closer.

"No. I have never been to America until now. I just got back from a six month mission to the U.K. Have you ever been to Israel?"

Her heart thumped louder as he pursed his lips, thinking. "No. But my little sister counts Canada as part of the U.K.- the separate part." He rolled his eyes and sat back in his chair.

"You have a little sister?" He nodded, gaze roaming over her. She tossed her head, brushing her curls over her shoulder. "What is her name?"

"Sarah." She nodded, reaching up and taking something between her fingers. A subtle movement revealed it was a gold Star of David on a chain that hung around her neck.

"It is Hebrew. It means 'princess'." She sniffled, tears slipping gently down her cheeks as some memory he didn't know about caught her in its grip. Unwilling to see a woman cry, he reached up, gently brushing the tears off her cheeks with his thumb. She reached up, covering his hand with hers and giving him a small smile. He squeezed her fingers before pulling away and getting up.

"Hey, Tony, I'm gonna go get a cup of coffee, you want anything?" The senior agent stopped outside the bullpen, looking slightly more put together now. He shook his head.

"No thanks, Tim." The younger agent nodded, watching as Tony slipped into the bullpen and behind his desk before heading to the elevator. When Tony looked up next, it was to a flash of dark curls chasing after the elevator. He narrowed his eyes, but then thought better of it and shook his head, deciding to let it be.

By the time she caught up with the younger agent, she'd made it out to the small common area within the Navy Yard; a quick scan told her that he was by the small coffee kiosk. She let her gaze wander, drinking in the hive of activity; clearly, the Navy Yard was in itself a small village, walled off from the rest of the world-

The smell of coffee reached her nose, and she turned, to find him holding a cup out to her. She met his gaze. "Take it. It's not a bribe. I promise." She glanced from the cup to his face and back, before reaching out and taking the non-proffered cup from his hand.

"_Toda_." He smirked softly at her whispered thanks before taking a seat on the bench a few feet behind them. After a moment, she settled beside him, sipping her coffee. They sat in silence for several minutes, before he turned to her,

"So, how did you end up in Mossad?" She met his gaze.

"How did you end up with NCIS?" He chuckled softly, and shaking his head, rolled his eyes.

"My family is Navy; has been for generations. I never wanted to join the Navy, but I still wanted to be a part of it- so, I figured if I joined NCIS, then I could still be a part of the Navy without actually joining. I guess... I've always been Navy." She nodded. "You?"

A soft sigh escaped her throat, and he briefly considered if she would make that same soft sigh during sex-

"Old... Israeli sense of duty." She finally admitted. "I... I lost my sister, Tali, in a... a suicide bombing. She was sixteen and the best of us." Silence fell. A moment passed before he reached out, taking her hand. She gave him a soft smile, squeezing his hand. "But I was Mossad long before Tali died." her voice was soft, and she sniffled. Gently, he reached up, brushing a wayward tear off her cheek before standing. Her grip on his hand tightened, and he looked down at her, green eyes flashing with confusion. She tugged again, and he returned to his place beside her.

"What is it, Officer _Da_vid?" But she didn't say a word, for her mouth had since landed on his.


	5. Chapter 5

**Rifiuto: Non Miriena**

_"You must be prepared to resist, not to give yourselves up like sheep to slaughter."_

_ - Mordechai Anielewicz (1919 - 1943), leader of the Warsaw Ghetto Uprising _

1943, April 19

Warsaw Ghetto

Passover

5:00 A.M.

_She awoke to the sound of shuffling. For a brief moment, she thought the shuffling was Ima, once more up and about as had become her habit since the Germans had walled the ghetto in, and expected to hear her wondering aloud once more about how her middle daughter could be so careless as to lose the meat in favor of retrieving her sister's coat. Ima hadn't been happy when she'd returned yesterday sans package, and she'd only gotten angrier as Zahrah had explained what had happened. While Ima hadn't hit her, the bite of her words stung and burned worse than any aggressive physical contact. Sick over what she'd done, she'd only nibbled at her potatoes and then gone to bed._

_But as she slowly sat up, careful not to wake Chava who lay curled in a ball beside her, and slowly, she pushed the threadbare blanket back and got up. In her meager nightgown, she shuffled silently to the door, pulling it open slightly to listen. The voice that met her wasn't Ima's, nor was it Abba's- it was Levi's and..._

_"But the Germans have-"_

_"Hush, Miriam. This will work, it has to." _

_"And if it doesn't, Levi? We will all die, and condemn those that don't fight to our fate. Do you really want to put Zahrah and Chava through that? We already lost Malka, and now you want to risk our other sisters- as well as Ima and Abba?" She didn't hear another word, as the door creaked and she dashed silently back to the bed, wrapping herself around Chava and struggling to shake their siblings' words from her head. _

_However, she was awoken two hours later to the blanket being pulled from her body, and she turned, to see Miriam dropping them to the floor. "Miri-" _

_"Get up." She blinked, glancing at the bedroom door. "Now, Zahrah, get up!" She turned her tired gaze back to her older sister; Miriam had her dark curls pinned back, and she wore a black coat over a matching simple black dress. Her purse was on her arm, and she crossed her arms, waiting for Zahrah to obey. "Get up, now!" The girl quickly scrambled out of bed; Miriam had never snapped at her before, and she knew that it had something to do with the conversation she'd overheard two hours earlier. Once on her feet, Miriam held out a faded dark blue dress- one of her old ones. "Get dressed, hurry. We cannot waste time, for we have no more time to waste."_

_"Miriam, what-" But her sister was soon gone, disappearing out of the room to allow her to change. She quickly pulled on the skirt and blouse and grabbed her boots, Miriam's voice as she entered the room again stopped her._

_"Pack as much as you possibly can into this," She held out a small knapsack. "Only important things, Zahrah, not childish toys." Without saying a word, she did as told, climbing to her knees to reach beneath the bed and lift up one of the floorboards. She quickly removed a couple things- a notebook and pen, a small photo album, a small prayer book, and several items of jewelry- earrings she'd been given on her twelfth birthday, a couple bracelets her grandmother had given her, and a gold locket that held her family's photographs within, which she slipped around her neck and tucked beneath her dress. Once done, she climbed to her feet, swiped her brush through her hair, brushed her teeth and slipped both brushes into her bag before hurrying to join Miriam._

_She found Chava and their parents with Miriam and Levi, all dressed and holding small knapsacks. Her dark eyes darted to each face before resting on her older sister. "What is going on? Why did you get us up so early, Miriam?" Her sister glanced at their parents, but it was Levi that spoke._

_"You are going into hiding, Zahrah." She furrowed a brow._

_"What do you mean, Levi?" He opened his mouth to speak, but a knock at the door stopped him and they all froze. After a moment, another soft knock sounded, and Levi relaxed, going to the door and pulling it open. Two people quickly slipped inside, shutting the door behind them._

_"Are they ready, Levi?" Zahrah immediately recognized the pair- Mira Fuchrer, and her boyfriend, Mordechai Anielewicz- she had often thought that Mira was lucky to land a boy as handsome as Mordechai, and had found herself jealous of the quiet girl. But now, she felt nothing but confusion as to why they were there._

_"Levi, what is going on?" Her brother nodded to Mordechai and made his way to her, taking her shoulders._

_"Listen to me carefully, Zahrah. You are going into hiding."_

_"But where, Levi? There is nowhere to hide-" He lay a finger against her lips, silencing her. In a soft voice, he replied,_

_"In the sewers." Her mouth dropped, and she stared at him as though he'd lost his mind._

_"What? What do you mean the sewers? We cannot-"_

_"Jews have been escaping through the sewers since they built the wall, Zahrah. There are people down waiting to take you and Chava away from the ghetto." That last sentence registered in her mind, and she met his gaze._

_"But... but what about you? And Ima and Abba and Mir-"_

_"Ima and Abba will follow, but Miriam and I... we are going to stay-"_

_"But why-"_

_"And we are going to fight."_

_"Fight who, Levi?" She cried, of which she was immediately shushed. He took her face in his hands, making sure she understood._

_"The Germans. And you and Chava have to hide. You have to get out- there are people who will take you out of the ghetto to freedom. Your parents will follow after, with others. But you need to get out- before it is too late." He pressed a firm kiss to her forehead, before doing the same to Chava and pushing them towards Mira. As they left the building, Zahrah glanced back; Levi gave her a small smile. Once the door closed behind them, she turned to Mira._

_"I don't understand." Mira glanced at her, but kept quiet as the trio made their way through the quiet, deserted streets of the ghetto. Finally, she said,_

_"Jews have been escaping for years, Zahrah. The tunnels are filthy, but they are the perfect cover for Germans would never think to check them." Finally, they reached a manhole, and Mira knelt down. She banged twice on the cover, and after a moment, the heavy piece of cement began to shift, lifting. Mira grabbed the cover and helped shift it off, before turning to the girls. "This is Asher. He will be taking you and others through the sewers. Now hurry." Without a word, Mira took the small knapsack from Chava and then lifted the child and offered her to the young man peeking out of the sewer. He took her, gently lowering her to the ground below him, before taking her bag and handing it down to her. Then, she turned to Zahrah, taking the bag from her and handing it to Asher. "Go." _

_"But... but Abba and Ima-" _

_"They will follow, but you need to hide. The Germans will be here soon, and if they catch you, you will be sent to Treblinka and never come back. Now go!" And without a word, she took the girl's arm and led her to the lip of the sewer. Glancing back at Mira, Zahrah hesitantly reached out, taking Asher's hand and allowing him to help her into the sewer. Once she was street level, Mira pushed the cover back over the hole, shutting them into darkness. _


	6. Chapter 6

**Rifiuto: Non Miriena**

**A/N: To Guest- No problem. My bf's been raised right- his maternal grandmother managed to escape to England during the Kindertransport in 1939 when she was two, before being sent to America. The rest of her family was taken to Auschwitz-Birkeneau, and only her six-year-old brother survived to walk away from the camps; the rest of her family perished. By the time the war ended, she'd been adopted by a couple in Boston, and her brother came to America when he was eighteen to find her. They were reunited not long after she turned fourteen.**

**Thanks to earthdragon for reviewing 3 and 4 and Guest for reviewing 5.**

_"I knew the people who worked for me. When you know people, you have to behave towards them like human beings."_

_ - Oskar Schindler (1908 - 1974), German Businessman who Saved 1,200 Jews with his list_

_Navy Yard _

She opened her eyes, half expecting him to have pulled away and rushed back to HQ, but her eyes widened in surprise to find him still there. His arms had snaked around her waist, pulling her to him, and her eyes closed, letting her mouth take control. With her free hand, she reached up, grasping a handful of his shirt, feeling the buttons beneath her fingers. They were smooth, and the material, soft, as soft as his lips were. The tiny part of her brain not silenced by the kiss began to wonder if the rest of his body was as soft and silky as his hands, his lips-

Eventually, he pulled away, catching his breath. She rested her forehead to his, forcing her eyes open as she caught her own breath. His green eyes shone with something she couldn't quite figure out, and she gave him a small smile as he spoke. "We have to stop doing this, or Gibbs will kill us." She swallowed, closing her eyes briefly, and reaching up, wrapping her arms around his neck and threading the silky hair at the nape of his neck through her fingers.

It was a familiar action, one used by a woman who had been in a relationship with a man for years and yet, she had never been in a relationship other than the ones used in operations; her father strictly forbid any form of dalliance outside of a planned op, and Ziva, being the good daughter, never disobeyed. So why was she doing this now? She'd only just _met_ Agent McGee, and yet, here she was, practically in his lap, her arms around his neck, fingers playing with his hair.

"He did not seem too concerned earlier." She replied, giving him a cheeky grin. He chuckled, sliding a hand along her waist. It was if his fingers knew where to go-

"Well, even so, we'd better get back, otherwise he'll kill us both." And without another word, he stood, holding out a hand. She took it, before picking up her cup and following him. They returned to the bullpen to find Gibbs and Tony waiting for them at the elevator, gear in hand. Instantly, Tony's gaze flicked to their still-joined hands, and a spark of confusion flitted across his face. Without a word, he held out Tim's gear, which the younger man took; Ziva glanced at him, before turning back to find Gibbs holding her own gear.

Silent, the two stepped back into the elevator before allowing the other two men to join them. As the doors shut and the elevator began to move, Gibbs flicked the switch, sending the box and its occupants into darkness. He turned to the three, his gaze moving to the linked hands of his youngest agent and the new Mossad liaison he was forced to have on his team. Tony quickly stepped back, lowering his gaze; since Kate's death, he'd... changed, and not necessarily for the better, Tim had decided.

But right now, the pair's gazes were focused on Gibbs, who strode the short space towards them in two strides. "Whatever the _hell_ is going on between you two-" He began, but something stopped him, and he sighed. Both watched as the wheels turned in his head, and after a moment, he sighed, glancing at their hands. "This may work." The pair shared a glance, but Gibbs didn't move to flick the switch on the elevator. "There's been a double murder- a married couple; their bodies were found washed up on the beach. It was originally an FBI case, but Fornell turned it over to me when he realized the connection the case had to NCIS."

"Um, b... Boss?" Tim stammered. "Wh.. what-" Gibbs's gaze snapped to his youngest agent, and he stepped back momentarily.

"The wife was of Italian decent; a JAG lawyer, and her husband was an Irish-American-born IRA assassin-turned-businessman. I _had_ considered DiNozzo for this, but you would work better, McGee." Ziva furrowed a brow, confused by everything being said and implied, and she glanced from Gibbs to Tim and back.

"I do not understand, Agent Gibbs, what is-"

Gibbs then turned his blue gaze to the young woman. "The husband was supposed to appear at some sort of business conference this weekend; they still expect him there, and the bodies were too decomposed to ID at first."

"So no one knows they are dead." Ziva whispered.

"It's possible this was an IRA hit. IRA is like the Marines, once you enter, you never leave, except in a body bag." He nodded, seeming satisfied. "Yes, you two will take lead on this case."

Ziva squeezed Tim's hand as the pair shared a glance, before turning to Tony, who kept his mouth shut. Suddenly, the elevator began to move once more as Gibbs flicked the switch. They rode down the rest of the way down in silence, and it was only when they got into the car that Tim glanced at Ziva, asking,

"So... what do I call you now?"


	7. Chapter 7

**Rifiuto: Non Miriena**

**A/N: My bf picked me up from dance so we could go for coffee and he apologized for his father. I told him that it wasn't his fault the man he calls 'Dad' is an absolute son of a bitch- literally, his paternal grandmother wasn't much better than him; thank God I only met her once before she died ( I know that's harsh, but... she made it _abundantly_ clear that her grandson was lowering his station in life by being involved with an artist). So we got coffee and Chinese and headed back to his apartment, took a bunch of blankets to the living room and sat in front of the small fireplace in his apartment before putting in _Nightmare on Elm Street_ because I've never seen the whole series all the way through.**

** He asked me to pull up my fan fiction so he can read it- I normally don't let him read it, just because it's me- but I allowed him to read it anyway. He's got a few little tips and changes that I can make or not, since it's my fiction, and I suggested maybe a collaboration... I know a lot about the Holocaust and the War, but he knows_ more_ because his great-uncle lived through it, and, unlike most survivors, actually talks about it. So I told him we'd try the collab, and see how it goes. And also, it was my bf's idea to have her go back; it was my idea to have her watching the events unfold from the 'bug's eye view' so to speak. This collab thing could work...**

_"Though it be to die, we will fight...__We will fight not for ourselves, but for future generations..._

_Although we will not live to see it, our murderers will pay for their crimes after we are gone._

_ And our deeds will live forever."_

_ - Itzhak Katzenelson (1886 - 1944), Jewish Teacher, Poet & Dramatist_

19 April, 1943

Warsaw

6:30 A.M.

_The water sloshed against her boots, turning the leather a disgusting shade of black; she ignored the smell, that they- for there were at least twenty others with them, of various ages- were now slugging through urine, feces and disease-laden water didn't register with her. What did register was the noise coming from the streets above them._

_She could hear the thud of boots, the sound of gunfire; the sewers they were in shook with the blast of homemade bombs. Distant screaming reached her ears, and she stopped, listening. "Zahrah?" But she ignored Chava, who turned back, causing the others to stop._

_"We... we have to go back." She whispered, glancing over her shoulder back the way they came. The screaming and shouting ran straight to her bones; if she listened hard enough, she thought she could hear Miriam screaming or Levi's shouting. She started back, but Asher rushed to her, grabbing her arm._

_"We cannot go back!" She turned to him._

_"But-"_

_"If we go back and the Germans find us, we will die. They will shoot us on the spot." Chava cried out, and one of the other women pulled the child into her side. "Do you want that?" He tugged her back towards the group and ushered them to keep going, but Zahrah tugged her arm out of his grip, rushing back through the few tunnels they'd moved through already towards the manhole cover. Once there, she climbed up the small ladder and after several minutes of struggle, managed to push the cover up a few inches. Through the slit, she was instantly greeted with the smell of gunfire and the shouts of both German and Hebrew. She ducked back into the darkness as someone ran by, followed by the grunts of gunfire. But once they were gone, she returned her gaze to the street, unable to look away._

_German soldiers were firing at individuals, and some individuals were firing back. Groups of men and women alike threw homemade grenades or fired guns; sometimes they would hit their target, other times, they wouldn't. And sometimes-_

_"Levi!" The sight of her brother on the ground just a few feet from her, a German standing over him with gun pointed, ripped his name from her throat, and both he and the German turned. Seeing her seemed to give him the strength he needed knock the other man to his feet. He struggled to crawl towards her, and she had to struggle to push the cover up, only to have Levi push it back down. "Levi! Where's Mir-"_

_"You need to go, Zahrah!"_

_"But-"_

_"Go! This is your only chance! Go!"_

_"But Levi-" A grenade exploded close by and she flinched._

_"Go, Zahrah! Go!" But before she could reply, he shoved the cover back onto the hole, sending her tumbling back into the sewer. She landed on her backside, staring up at the cover, waiting for Levi to pull it up and tell her she should return to the apartment. But it never came. What did, were the muffled sounds of gunfire and fighting, followed soon by the sound of water sloshing as someone rushed to her. When she looked up, it was to see Asher kneeling down and helping her up. He grabbed her hand, tugging her through the tunnels towards the group waiting for them._

_"I told you not to go back!" He turned to her, taking her face in his hands. "Did anyone see you?" She shook her head, and he nodded, relaxing, before they continued on._

_"I saw Levi. He... he told me to go and... and then he... he shoved the..." She stopped, glancing back, but Asher pulled her forward._

_"You said no one saw you. I am not going to allow us to be captured because of one girl's ignorance." He growled, pushing her gently forward._

_"I am not ignorant." She muttered. "And no German saw me, but my brother-" Her words were drowned out as he held her into a smaller tunnel and then yanked a grate shut behind metal creaked, rust hindering its progress, but once it was closed, Asher turned to the rest of the group waiting for them._

_"All right, let's keep going. Hurry."_


	8. Chapter 8

**Rifiuto: Non Miriena**

**A/N: "Why does it matter what my father thinks of you?" **

**"Because I want your parents to like me. I want your_ dad_ to like me." **

**"He's never going to because he's an ignorant jackass who has no regard for anyone but himself. Besides, it doesn't matter what they think; all that matters is what _I_ think of you. And what I think... is that I love you." Hearing that made my day a helluva lot better. **

**A/N: Yes, this is AU _Under Covers_, but with a twist... and pay close attention to the hotel name- it's in reference to the other story taking place, and the other form of the name will play a central role in this story later on...**

**Thanks to Reader for reviewing 4, 5, 6 and 7.**

_"Above all, let's hope we never take ourselves too seriously."_

_ - Vecors (1902-1991), Author of La bataille du silence & member of the French __Resistance_

_Oświęcim Hotel_

_Washington, D.C._

_Suite 145_

He leaned against the window ledge, lost in thought. He'd kissed her twice, didn't know much of anything about her other than what he'd asked for, and yet, he felt as if he'd met her before. As if... they'd met in some alternate reality that had resonated through the conjectures of time and space to knock them both onto their asses so they'd understand- but understand what? That was the question.

"You seem to be found in thought. What are you thinking about?" He glanced over his shoulder as she slid her arms around his waist.

"The term is lost in thought." He corrected gently. Ziva pulled away, wrinkling her nose as she wandered over to the small kitchenette and ran her fingers over the marble counter top.

"English is a... very confusing language." He chuckled, moving away from the window and going to her.

"Try speaking it your entire life." He whispered, leaning against the counter. "Anyway, I was thinking, that we should go out for dinner. Maybe that little French restaurant we passed by when we checked in?" He straightened, pulling her into his arms. "What do you say, Ella?" A spark of confusion flashed in her eyes briefly, and he cocked his head, raising an eyebrow. Finally, it clicked and she nodded, remembering.

"I think dinner sounds wonderful, Zane." She whispered, tilting his chin and kissing him sweetly before pulling away. Then, she slipped out of his grasp and headed towards the bedroom to change. Tim watched her go, the fleeting taste of her lips on his making his heart flip, but the ringing of a cellphone interrupted his thoughts. He rushed to the table, snatching up his cell and answering quickly.

"Evan Zane."

"How's everything going, Tim?" He glanced back at the bedroom, before slipping out onto the small patio. Once the door was closed behind him, he spoke up.

"We swept the room for recording devices; what we found, we disposed of. But Ziva and I are going to dinner, and I wouldn't be surprised if we come back and there's more."

Gibbs nodded, sighing. He and Tony had taken up surveillance across the street from the hotel at a small cafe- well, when Tony wasn't playing waiter or bell-boy. He watched the younger agent plop into the chair across from him and accept the coffee he'd bought for him with a grateful smile. "You find out anything else about the Zanes, Tim?"

Tim, glanced back into the hotel suite- Ziva hadn't returned from the bedroom yet- and then shook his head. "Other than their names are Adella and Evan Zane, and she was a JAG lawyer from Boston, and he was a former IRA-assassin that had since created this billion-dollar company... no, not much. Ziva and I did some research on our own, but... didn't bring up much that we didn't know."

"Keep tryin', Tim." The younger man glanced over his shoulder again, catching sight of Ziva entering the living-room portion of the suite. He pulled the door open and stepped back inside, raising his voice slightly to alert Ziva.

"Yes, I will be there... seven on Friday... okay... goodbye." He quickly hung up and slipped the phone into his pocket. The nice suit he wore was a soft heather grey that accented his green eyes wonderfully, and he slid his hands into his pockets, letting his eyes move up and down her body appreciatively. "You ready?" She nodded, glancing down at the dress she wore.

"Is it too much?" Tim let his gaze slide over the smooth exposed mounds of her shoulders, before moving down the halter of her gown and down. The dress was a beautiful emerald green silk that slid down and accented her curves in every way possible. Her hair had been pulled up into a contained twist of curls that exposed the graceful curve of her neck. After a moment, he shook his head.

"Not at all." He gave her a small smile, and she relaxed. He held out an arm, and she grinned, slipping her arm through his. They left the hotel, shutting the door silently behind them before heading for the stairs. They soon slipped into their seats at a secluded corner of the nice restaurant, and as the settled in their seats, Ziva looked around before leaning towards him.

"I thought Special Agent Gibbs was sending someone in to play our wai-"

"Can I start you both off with a glass of wine?" The pair looked up as the waiter stopped before their table. A moment passed before Tim chuckled softly; Ziva furrowed a brow, confused. She caught Tim's eye, before looking back at the man and really studying him. And then she realized who he was.

Tony DiNozzo, the Senior agent of the team.

He was dressed in a red waiter's uniform, with a white towel draped over his arm and a bottle of chilled wine in his grasp, waiting for them to decide. Tim glanced at her, cocking his head to the side. "What do you say, Ella? One glass of wine won't hurt." She glanced at Tony, reaching over to snake her fingers through Tim's.

"It sounds wonderful, Evan."


	9. Chapter 9

**Rifiuto: Non Miriena**

**A/N: Time for a little change of pace...**

**Thanks to Reader for reviewing 8.**

_"Surely there is no more wretched sight that the human body unloved and uncared for."_

_ - Corrie Ten Boom (1892-1983), Dutch Author of 'The Hiding Place', who Helped Almost 800 Jews Escape_

12 May, 1943

Berlin, Germany

_The wheels of the bicycle bumped roughly over the cobblestones of the streets as he returned to the house. He only vaguely acknowledged the soldiers running marching drills through the streets of Berlin, his mind on other things. Since being forced to leave University, he'd had a lot of time on his hands- time he'd spent reading and watching the atrocities happening beyond the streets of German Berlin. _

_Finally, he pulled up in front of the house and got off his bike, quickly unlocking the door and slipping inside, setting his bike by the door, as was usual. "Corinna? I'm back!" A young girl peeked around a wall, relaxing when she saw him. She rushed to him, throwing her arms around his shoulders when she got close enough. _

_"Adrian! You are home!" He stumbled back, catching the girl, but just barely. _

_"Of course I am! Did you think I would not be?" He stepped back, steadying her. "And you are getting too old for that, Cora." He gently admonished. "You are sixteen now." The girl lowered her head briefly, and he sighed, reaching out and gently lifting her chin. "I'm sorry, Cora. I know you were worried." The girl's blue eyes shimmered with tears, and she threw her arms around him. _

_"I was scared you had gotten hurt, Adrian." He wrapped her in his arms, squeezing gently before pulling away. _

_"I am fine, I promise." He then dug into the bag on his shoulder, pulling something out. "I brought you this." She took it, eyes wide. _

_"Oh, chocolate! Where did you find it?" She cried, tearing into the sweet and then snapping a piece off and holding it out to him. _

_"The grocer had a couple bars left, so I bought one." _

_"Oh, thank you, Adrian!" She hugged him again and he laughed, ruffling her hair. As she dashed upstairs, he turned his gaze back to the kitchen from where she'd come, to find his mother watching him. Without a word, she made her way towards him, wrapping him in a hug. _

_"I am glad you are safe, my son." She pressed a soft kiss to his temple before pulling away. As she led him into the kitchen, she asked, _

_"I know you took Sophie and Hans's deaths badly, love, but do you really think it's right, to continue their work and put your own life- and our lives- at risk?" He took a seat at the table, accepting the cup of coffee his mother set in front of him before she joined him. He sighed, thinking back on his last days at University. In those last meetings before the arrests, the Scholl siblings had given the other members stacks of leaflets to distribute to wherever they ended up- in the hopes that their message would continue on. Hans had ordered him and a couple others to go into hiding, and to return to Berlin, to their families; the last thing he wanted was them sharing in his and Sophie's fates._

_But those forced into hiding hadn't left right away._

_They'd stayed, returning to University to discover that Sophie and Hans had been found guilty of treason and executed. It hadn't shocked them, but it had sickened them, and they'd all fled in the night, making their way back to Berlin. He swallowed, meeting his mother's gaze. Sophie had been a year older than him, and because she'd refused to give up the names of the others- of him, and their friends and roommates and fellow conspirators- she'd paid the ultimate price, handing over her life for what she thought was right. _

_His head snapped up as his mother's words resonated. "How can you even ask that? Of course we have to continue! Sophie and Hans would have wanted that!" _

_"But you are doing it for a people you don't even know, Adrian- a people who may truly be as ungrateful and as horrible as the Führer_ _says they are-" _

_He slammed his palms on the table as he stood, rattling the cups. "They are not! And what we had done- it was not good enough! We will never change the thinking of thousands of Germans if we stop now, Mother!"_

_"You will not change the thoughts of thousands of Germans or the world by handing out a few leaflets, Adrian! All you will do is find yourself among the Jews at the camps! I do not want that for you!" He studied his mother, narrowing his eyes. She sat staring at the coffee in her cup, tears sliding down her cheeks. He sighed; he knew that his time with die Weiße Rose- the White Rose, the nonviolent, resistance group he'd joined his sophomore year at University- had affected his mother greatly. She'd worried about him, fearing that his activities would get him killed, and while Sophie and Hans had given their lives for the cause, he still remained, along with several others in the group who'd managed to escape. And he would- despite his mother's wishes- carry on Hans and Sophie's work. He could never live with himself if he didn't, otherwise his friends would have died in vain. _

_"But we can try! How do we know if we will succeed or not if we do not try?" _

_"Brother?" Both turned; Cora hid behind the door, watching them, fear in her eyes. She rushed to Adrian, throwing her arms around him. "Do not go away again, Adrian. Please. I was so scared." He sighed, wrapping his sister in his arms. He turned his gaze to his mother, who wiped tears from her eyes. "Where is Father?"_

_"At work." He nodded, watching his mother choke on a sob. Despite her pleadings, her husband- a German lawyer in Berlin- also helped in the resistance against Hitler's regime. By day, he defended Nazis and anti-Semitic Germans; at night, he would help his colleagues create pamphlets and leaflets in the basement beneath the courthouse, that would be distributed throughout Germany, calling for resistance to Hitler and his ideals. And despite his wife's protests, he agreed with his son, for he saw daily what was being done to the Jews; he, like his son, saw the need to right this most evil of wrongs. A moment passed, before he pulled away from Cora and went to his mother. _

_"Please, Mother, trust me. If I do not succeed, at least I will know that I tried. That I tried to do some good among this evil. Please. Let me at least try."She sighed, thinking over his words, before nodding and reaching up to cradle his cheek. With tears in her eyes, she nodded her consent. _


	10. Chapter 10

**Rifiuto: Non Miriena**

**A/N: Hey everyone, this is Evan (ZJ's bf; story-wise, she thinks she's funny). Anyway, she's lounging comfortably in bed with one of my favorite novels right now, so I figured I'd post this for her- **

**~ Not without my consent, you're not.**

**What consent? *grins***

**~ What the hell did you _write_? *snatches laptop away* A love scene. _You_ wrote a _love scene_?**

**Why is it so impossible for you to believe I can't write a love scene? I'm romantic. Besides, you write love scenes all the time. Oh, and this is_ tame_ compared to what you write. I learned a few things about discretion from you.**

**~**And the only thing you learned about discretion was not to get caught doing it in your parents' car. ****

****That's not discretion-****

****~I know, that was the point. And n**o bloody way is _this_ tame. Are you _trying_ to get me in trouble?**

**No. *wraps arms around her waist and kisses her neck* I'm trying to get you back into bed. **

**~ Put me down!**

**No way. Sorry guys, Z'll be back later. Until then, enjoy. I know I will. ;)**

_"The living are more demanding; the dead can wait." _

_ - Primo Levi (1919 - 1987), Italian Jewish chemist, writer and Holocaust Survivor_

_Oświęcim Hotel_

_Suite 145_

The door shut softly behind them,_ Do Not Disturb_ swaying gently before settling. He leaned against the door, watching as she wandered towards the small outdoor patio, letting her gaze wander over the view. After a moment, he pushed himself away from the door, going to the entertainment center and quickly checking it for bugs- he found a couple, but let them; they'd talked it over in hushed tones during dinner, that maybe leaving the surveillance devices would give them a clue as to who had gone after the couple in the first place.

He slipped out onto the patio, going to her and sliding his hands down her shoulders and around her waist. "Come back inside, Ella. I can think of something better than stargazing." He kissed the space beneath her ear, and she turned to him, dark eyes locking with his.

"And what is that, Evan, love?" She asked, pulling out of his embrace and taking his hand, tugging him into the suite. He shut the door behind him, locking it. Then, he leaned close, capturing her lips in a soft kiss. He moved his other hand around her neck, undoing the straps of her halter and letting the material fall to expose the soft mounds of her breasts. As the dress slid down her hips, she reached out, tugging the jacket off him and dropping it to the floor before working on the buttons of his shirt. Her gaze moved over his chest- though they'd only just met, she couldn't help admiring his physique.

He clearly worked out- if she remembered correctly, he'd told her over dinner that he went for a run every morning and had cut out sugar and soda from an early age, because his little sister was diabetic, and it was in support of her, and so he had managed to avoid the dreaded Juvenile Diabetes his sister had been diagnosed with at eight. She ran a hand up his chest, licking her lips, a wolfish grin tugging at her features. But before she could say anything, his mouth was on hers, his hands in her hair, the curls falling down around her face. they walked back to the bedroom, the door slamming behind them.

Thinking only of the taste of her mouth and the feel of her skin, he pushed her onto the bed, breaking the kiss as he moved his mouth down her body. His hands trailed down her body, introducing themselves to her curves. The dress she'd worn now lay forgotten on the floor in the living room area, leaving her in only a pair of red lace panties. He glanced at her, and she nodded, giving him permission to remove the underwear. He continued kissing his way down her body, brushing feather-light kisses down her belly towards the dark curls between her thighs. He pressed a soft kiss to the inside of her thigh before continuing on.

She gasped, tangling her fingers in his hair and tugging as her back arched in pleasure. A moan of pleasure escaped her throat as he continued his assault on her, and she told herself to keep control, because soon it would be her turn to do the same to him. That thought- and her control- quickly fled her mind though as her eyes struggled to focus; she found Tim wiping at his mouth, grinning at her. Before she could speak, his mouth was back on hers; her hands worked on removing his pants and boxers, until they were both completely nude and exposed to the disappearing chill in the air.

One hand reached; her small fingers stroked his length- she could feel him lengthen and firm beneath her hand, and she grinned, sliding one leg up his body to wrap around his waist. She moved her hands up to caress his back, inhaling sharply as the tip of him brushed against the tiny bundle of nerves between her legs. Finally, he broke the kiss, meeting her gaze. A sly smile tugged at his lips, and he kissed her sweetly as he entered her.

She broke the kiss, groaning softly as he began to fill her- it was tight, and he was thick- much thicker than she expected. She panted, meeting his gaze. He brushed a kiss to her lips, a silent apology for catching her off guard. She slid her hands down his back, digging her nails into his skin, hands grasping at sweat-soaked skin as they began to find their rhythm. Although, before they reached their climax, she flipped them over so that she was above him. She leaned down, pressing her nose to his.

"There is one thing you need to know about me, Tim." She purred.

"And what's that?" He asked; she grinned, nudging her nose against his for several seconds before,

"I like to be on top." Then, she pressed a firm kiss to his mouth. "Do you have a problem with that?"

He shook his head. "Not at all."

Neither noticed the video surveillance recording their every move.


	11. Chapter 11

**Rifiuto: Non Miriena**

**A/N: Sorry about that, guys. I _knew_ I shouldn't have let Ev read my story. I love him, but sometimes he can be a real pain in the ass... sorry. He has his own place, so I spend the majority of my nights at "our place" as he calls it. Dinners with his parents are normal, and we usually go back to our place to let off steam. And after doing that, I let him get a hold of my laptop- and my story. _What_ was I thinking?**

_"The Holocaust was our 9/11. Only instead of losing 3,000, we lost 6 million." _

_ - Purple Heart (1920-), one of my vets, received a Purple Heart for valor_

13 May, 1943

Berlin, Germany

4:00 A.M.

_He lay in bed, staring at the ceiling. The house was quiet, the streets outside his window even quieter, though in the distance, he could hear the faint shuffling of feet, the shouts of Gestapo guards as they ushered Jews into train cars, bound for Auschwitz and its child camps. A sigh escaped his lips, and he shifted, throwing an arm over his eyes._

_Sophie and Hans. Christophe. Professor Huber... all had died for the cause, for the righting of wrongs and the destroying of evil. And the countless others in the group who'd since been captured and either killed or sentenced to prison for treason- and those that had escaped..._

_He sat up, unable to just lie in bed and try to sleep. Pushing the blankets back, he got up, going to his closet and pulling out his coat. He dug around for the inside pocket, finally locating it and pulling something out. As his eyes adjusted to the darkness, he unfolded the paper- it was a page of Christophe's notes that he'd managed to grab before leaving to distribute leaflets that day, left unpublished thanks to his death. After a moment, he went to the window, leaning against to catch the moonlight against the paper. His eyes skimmed the words, drinking in his friend's familiar writing._

_'Hitler und sein Regime muss fallen, damit Deutschland weiter lebt'. He chuckled softly in agreement. Christophe was right- Hitler and his regime must fall so that Germany may live._ _Were Hitler to succeed, Germany would wither and die, a cancerous limb in dire need of removal. And Hitler was the cancer making Germany sick. He had to get this out- it was pertinent that the public read this and understand the disease that was the Third Reich._

_He quickly folded up the leaflet, and then quickly changed into regular clothing, grabbing his coat from the closet and pulling it on. Carrying his shoes down the stairs, he slipped them on in the foyer before grabbing his bicycle and opening the door. Glancing over his shoulder, he listened, only hearing the softness of the house settling and the silence of darkness and sleep dancing together. Then, he slipped out of the house and down the few steps to the sidewalk. Taking a deep breath, he tugged his coat closer and then dashed through the shadows towards the courthouse, holding his breath the whole way. Though were he to be stopped, he'd simply say that he had a class at University that started at five._

_He didn't release the breath he was holding until he reached the courthouse and taking the lock-picks he'd hidden in his shoe earlier- he'd been planning this all night, waiting for the right time- he picked the lock to the courthouse and slipped inside, hiding his bicycle within the shadows of the alleyway. He was silent as he made his way down to the basement, and once inside, he quickly lit a candle and turned to the printing press._

_Making quick removal of his coat, he rolled up his sleeves and set to work, pulling out the leaflet and unfolding it, laying it on the small table beside the copier. After checking that he had everything he needed, he slipped the sheet of paper into the Multigraph Printer and pressed down on the lever. He continued this work until he had a sizable stack of leaflets, all ready for distribution. As he wiped the sweat from his brow, brushing a loose strand of hair from his forehead, he nodded, thinking that Hans and Sophie were both watching from the clouds, happy that he was continuing their work. When he finished, he quickly wiped the ink from his fingers and grabbed the leaflets, folding them and stuffing them into the pockets of his coat-_

_He stopped. There was something making noise above him, at the entrance to the courthouse. But when he didn't hear it again, he dismissed it as a sudden breeze and pulled his coat on. He blew out the candle after making sure everything had been returned to the way it had before, and then slipped out of the basement, making sure to lock the door behind him. Once outside the locked courthouse, he hurried to retrieve his bicycle, only to stop in the entrance to the alleyway. "Hallo?"_

_The sound of shuffling met his ears, and his gaze shifted within the shadows, looking for the source of the noise. "Wer ist da?" There was no reply to his question, and after a moment, stepped into the alleyway, retrieving the bicycle from its hiding place. But when he grabbed the handlebars and seat to move it towards the entrance, something stopped it. His head snapped back. He tugged again, and again, felt resistance. After quickly checking that he hadn't caught the bicycle on anything left within the alley, he moved around the transportation, hands reaching out to remove whatever the handlebar had caught on. His hand slid onto something-_

_No, not something._

_Someone._

_That someone quickly pulled away from him, scrambling back into the shadows. His bicycle forgotten, he moved further into the alley, reaching for the person. After feeling around for several minutes, he managed to latch onto something, solid and warm. With a good tug, he pulled it towards him- the person, for it was a person- let out a tiny shriek, kicking out at him. They kicked hard enough that they sent him careening into the dirt and disgust of the alley floor, and he looked up, rummaging in his coat pocket and pulling out a lighter. Flicking it open, he held it up, ready to go after the person intent on stealing his bicycle- _

_Only to stop, at the sight of a child cowering in front of him, dark eyes watching him with fear. _


	12. Chapter 12

**Rifiuto: Non Miriena**

**A/N:_ Thanks to you_, now I have to rewrite my _entire_ story. **

**~ Not the _entire_ story. *leans over shoulder* Look, you can still follow the same trajectory you were planning on taking; just tweak it a lit-**

**Shut up. *slides behind me so I'm sitting between his legs in front of the fireplace, wraps arms around my waist* What are you doing?**

**~ *pulls mouth away from my neck* What you told me to do, Z. Shutting up.**

***rolls eyes* Sorry guys. I... *pulls away and turns to him* I can't _write_ with you _distracting_ me like this. **

**~ Then don't write. Post this chapter and log off. They're big readers, they can navigate your story's chapters by themselves. ****Here's the next chapter, guys. Have fun. **

_"Hell is on us."_

_ - Mamoru Shigemitsu (1887 - 1957), Japanese Minister of Foreign Affairs _

_Oświęcim Hotel_

_Suite 145_

_Midnight_

His green eyes snapped open, at the feel of someone shifting on top of him. Once his eyes had adjusted to the darkness, he lifted his head, to find her sprawled on his chest, long dark curls splayed out like the rays of the sun. He shifted, trying not to wake her as their late night activities came flooding back to him. He groaned softly; the soft sound was enough to wake the sleeping, snoring Israeli officer, and her jumped, snorting softly as she shook her head to clear away the clouds. She turned sleepy eyes to his face, and after a moment, a small smile flitted across her face. "You are awake."

"So are you." He whispered, his voice hoarse from their activities. She blushed, pushing herself up. A moment passed before she shifted, sliding down into the blankets beside him, pulling the sheet to her chest. "So... earlier, did we really...?" She nodded, propping herself up on her elbow. She reached up, one finger sliding between her lips to bite the nail. "Okay." He released the breath he'd been holding, that tiny part of him wondering if he'd imagined making love to Ziva.

"Did you not enjoy it?" Her dark eyes watched him, waiting anxiously for an answer. He met her gaze, before giving her a small smile.

"Of course I enjoyed it; it's sex, what man wouldn't? I just wanted to-"

"Make sure it was not a dream, yes?" He nodded, studying her face. She waited, and after a moment, he asked,

"Did we use any sort of-" But she reached out, laying a finger against his lips- the same finger that had been between her own lips moments before as she chewed on the nail.

"Ken, there was protection. And I... am on.. the Pill as you Americans call it. I have been on it since I was sixteen." He didn't respond- not with words anyway. His lips pressed gently against her finger, leaving a soft kiss on her skin. Her dark eyes watched him, drinking in the simple action- it was enough to arouse every cell within her body and send her body into sexual overload. After a moment, she leaned close, replacing her finger with her lips. They drank each other in greedily, but just as Ziva pushed Tim onto his back and climbed up to straddle his waist once more, his cell rang. She groaned in annoyance, but allowed him to grab the cell.

"Gibbs." He whispered; she nodded, and after a moment, sighed and lay down against him, head resting on his chest, making sure her ear was over his heart. His voice resonated in her head, the tenor to the bass of his heartbeat. The soothing rhythm had just about put her to sleep when he hung up the call and shifted to return the phone to the nightstand. Slowly, she lifted her head.

"What did Gibbs want?" He slid his arms around her waist, holding her to him. He met her gaze, sighing.

"Abby- our forensic- found ligature marks on Ella Zane's neck; her hyoid was crushed, suggesting she was strangled, and there were also ligature marks on her wrists and ankles, which suggest she-"

"Was bound." Ziva whispered, shivering. He nodded.

"From what Abby was able to figure out, someone most likely hogtied her; the hyoid appears to have snapped from a strong force pulling her head back, like in bondage play." The Israeli beauty momentarily buried her face in his chest; she'd heard of such treatments in BDSM- she'd even gone undercover once where she'd had to play the role of a dominatrix- but she'd never been interested in it herself. It wasn't her cup of coffee.

"That's horrible." She whispered, lifting her head to meet his gaze.

"Yeah. But it's what Ducky discovered during autopsy that really makes such a way to die disgusting."

"What did... Ducky find?" She asked, wondering exactly what a Ducky was- did they work with an autopsy-performing water fowl? Was it a goose? Or a swan, perhaps? Or some other sort of bird they'd trained to perform autopsies? Like an eagle, or a... pigeon? Or maybe even a... blue jay? No, it had to be a duck- why would a blue jay answer to Ducky?

Tim sat up, causing Ziva to momentarily slide down his chest. She sat up, settling herself into his lap and wrapping her arms around his neck loosely. Her fingers began playing with the soft, downy hair at the nape of his neck of their own accord. She swallowed, relaxing slightly as he slid his arms around her waist, holding her in his lap. He took a deep breath, running his hand up her back to tangle his fingers in her knotted curls. She inhaled softly as he tightened his grip on her hair, tugging gently on the strands. She let one hand move from his neck to gently trail over his chest. His words stopped her heart.

"Ella Zane was sixteen weeks pregnant."


	13. Chapter 13

**Rifiuto: Non Miriena**

**A/N: Hey guys. Ev's asleep, so I actually have time to write. He's lucky I love him, otherwise I'd kill him with a paperclip... no, seriously, I would.**

**A/N: And now two paths converge...**

_"Hatred is something we must fight against."  
><em>_-Leslie Meisels (1927 -), Holocaust survivor_

Berlin, Germany

5:30 A.M.

_She wasn't exactly sure how they managed to get from the sewers beneath the ghetto to Berlin- the German capital, no less- but she knew it had something to do with the network of people who were willing to risk their lives to help save Jews. And now, here they were, she and Chava, alone in a strange city; having been forced to separate from the rest of the group when the family that had been hiding them and four other Warsaw Jews had been taken away by the Gestapo. Somehow, someway, she and Chava had managed to escape the clutches of the Gestapo, dashing off into the night, through the streets of Berlin, searching for shelter that would never protect them._

_Somehow, someway, they'd managed to find this abandoned alleyway near the courthouse; it went back around the building, resulting in a dead end, and there was enough... cover that they could hide during the day, ducking beneath the boxes and various things people left in alleyways. Her head snapped up, the prayers she'd been silently reading forgotten at the voice. The sound of footsteps soon followed- one running, the other chasing- and she returned her prayer book to her small knapsack, climbing to her feet and slipping out of the small hidden shelter she and Chava had been able to create. Her blood boiled, fear and anger mixing together to create a toxic brew at the sight before her._

_The sisters had spent their days hiding in abandoned homes, being cautious, only going out at night to find a new, safer place to hide. Through it all, they had managed to stick together, but now-_

_Now there was this... German... threatening her little sister._

_The man stopped, and Zahrah watched as Chava rushed towards her, throwing her arms around her body and bursting into silent tears. She began to cry, her words mashing together into unintelligible Hebrew, and slowly, Zahrah knelt down. "Shh, hush, Chava. It is okay, I am here." Her gaze left her sister, moving to land on the man feet from her. She quickly stepped in front of her little sister, ready and willing to fight to protect her._

_The man chasing Chava stumbled, surprised that the child seemed to disappear into the shadows. She watched him flick the lighter open again and hold it up, searching for her sister. "Hallo?" She stopped, the sound of his voice surprising her, but then she shook her head. No, she had to protect Chava. And the best way to do that was to stay silent._

_Gently, quietly, she pushed Chava towards their shelter and then followed, pulling the child to her chest; her sister clung to her, struggling to keep from hiccuping. Zahrah watched intently as he moved further into the alley, the flame from the lighter his only source of light. Chava gasped softly; the young man stopped before their makeshift shelter, and reached out, pulling back the cover. She pulled her sister closer, curling around her as she watched the young man- for that's clearly what he was- stepped closer, holding the lighter out further._

_She heard his breath catch, and her heart dropped; they'd been caught, and would suffer the fates of thousands of other Jews. Chava dug her fingers into her sister's skin, burying her face in Zahrah's chest, sobs choking her throat. She wrapped her arms around her sister, rocking her gently, though she stayed silent and never took her gaze off the man before her. He leaned closer, and she pulled back, until she was pressed against the wall. She glanced down, brushing a strand of hair out of Chava's eyes, and when she looked back up, she found herself nose-to-nose with the German._

_Even in the dark, with only scant light from the flame of his lighter, she could see that he was good-looking- a firm jaw, high cheekbones, slender nose, and... the most remarkable eyes she'd ever seen. Even with limited light, his eyes appeared to sparkle like emeralds. Against her better judgement, she leaned closer to study his eyes, their lips coming dangerously close to brushing-_

_Those emerald eyes widened as he reared back, and she blushed, suddenly aware of how close they had been. She shrank back in on herself, pulling her sister closer, who watched the young man with fearful eyes as she clutched to Zahrah. A moment passed as the young man studied them, and then, in a soft voice, he asked her something in German. It had been a while since she'd said anything in German- Zahrah was fluent in German; they had cousins who had lived in Munich, and the family would often visit their German-Jewish cousins before the war broke out and Jews were restricted to certain areas. Now though, she racked her brain for German- a word, a phrase, anything- that would let him know she understood him. Minutes passed, before she choked out,_

_"Bitte." _

_It was all she could think of, but it seemed to catch his attention. He cocked his head, before learning closer; Zahrah held her breath, watching him cautiously. He seemed to be weighing his options, for he kept glancing from them back towards the opening of the alleyway and back. She turned her gaze to her sister, tightening her grip and closing her eyes, waiting for him to call for the Gestapo; holding her breath as she waited to hear the thundering of boots on cobblestone and the bark of orders, followed by the grunt of car wheels blocking their exit. She waited, eyes shut tight, her grip on Chava bone-crushing, but none came. _

_When she slowly raised her head, he was holding out a hand, watching, waiting for her to take it. _


	14. Chapter 14

**Rifiuto: Non Miriena**

**A/N: Ran into an old friend from high school at the store today. She got married last year, has a four-year-old and is seven months pregnant with twins... I didn't bring it up when I got back to our place... but... all our friends are getting married and... and having kids... and... I admit- I'm jealous... but what do I say? How the _hell_ do I even _bring up_ a subject like this to Ev? I_ know_ he loves me and we've been together for nearly six years, but... What if he reacts badly? What if this... if this is the straw that not only breaks us, but... destroys us?**

**Thanks to Reader for reviewing 9, 10, 11, 12 and 13.**

_"I know not with what weapons World War III will be fought, but World War IV will be fought with sticks and stones."_

_- Albert Einstein (1879 - 1955), German-born Theoretical Physicist_

_Oświęcim Hotel_

_Suite 145_

Ziva sat back, startled. Her short, blunt nails dug lightly into his chest. She... she_ had_ to have heard incorrectly...

Ella had been-

"Pregnant?" She whispered, her mind struggling to process this new information. Tim nodded.

"Yeah. Ducky said he found the presence of fetal bones and elevated levels of PTH in her blood."

"Pregnancy hormone." She whispered; meeting his eyes. She sighed, leaning forward to rest her forehead to his. He tugged her closer, ghosting a hand down her back to wrap around her waist. "So... I have to... pretend to be pregnant."

"Yeah." Tim's whisper was soft, a fleeting kiss against her skin, as he closed his eyes and tried to think of what to do. After several moments of silence, it was Ziva that spoke up.

"Well... if she was only sixteen weeks, and it was her first child, then... she can't have shown very much, can she?"

He sighed, never lifting his forehead from hers. "She would have a slight swell to her midsection, but if it was her first... usually a first-time mother doesn't start showing sometimes until her third trimester or late into her second. That's how my mother was with me- she didn't start showing until twenty-eight weeks, and it was the same with Sarah. It all depends on the mother, and her height and weight at time of pregnancy."

Ziva nodded; she remembered vaguely something in her health class back in high school about the teacher saying that it really depended on the mother's shape and size in regards to if she started to show at the beginning of the pregnancy. Ziva had always thought that if she ever had kids, she'd immediately start to show- but then again, she'd seen photographs of Rivka when she was pregnant with her, and had changed her view. "So... we are playing parents-to-be." Tim sighed, swallowing thickly.

"Yeah, and from the way Abby described Ella's death... whoever killed her and Evan obviously didn't care for the life of her unborn child. Then again, maybe they didn't even know about the baby." Tim reasoned, hoping that was the truth and not that her killers knew about the baby and deliberately hogtied her. Not that hogtying someone couldn't be deliberate- there was a whole _host_ of fetishes that involved tying, whips, and chains- but to deliberately tie up a pregnant woman-

He shuddered, and Ziva pulled him closer. They stayed silent for several minutes, before he finally lay back down, gaze moving to the ceiling. Ziva watched him for a moment before she joined him, settling herself against his side, laying a hand against his chest. "So... what do we do?" She knew what to do in these situations, these missions, but the reveal that the woman she was playing had been midway into her second trimester of pregnancy-

It complicated things; not with the mission, but within her. Ziva had always assumed that she would never be able to have children, thanks to her work with Mossad- especially since many agents died young- but since she'd arrived in America under Director Shepard's order, she'd been giving the possibility of maybe having a family one day some thought.

And for some reason, as she lay on Tim's chest, listening to his breathing, feeling his fingers work through her tangled curls, her heart screamed that she wanted to start her family with him. She quickly obliterated the thought, nuzzling into his chest, but it sprang up again, refusing to be ignored. This was ridiculous; she and Tim barely knew each other, had only been working on this undercover op for two days, and already, she was considering having _babies_ with him. Throw in the very real possibility that he probably already had a girlfriend or-

"This is going to change our whole op." He whispered, startling her out of her thoughts. She pulled away and looked up at him.

"How?" He met her gaze, reaching up and catching her chin with his hand before pulling her towards him and kissing her firmly.

"You are supposed to be pregnant,_ Ella_. That means no more wine at dinner." She sighed, settling back against the pillows, her fingers reaching up to tangle in his hair and play with the silky seemed to think over his words before,

"It was only a few glasses, _Evan_."

"Yes, but that is _our_ child growing inside you, Ella." He responded, pulling her close to kiss her. She laughed, resting a hand on his chest, before stopping as he rested a hand on her belly. She looked up, dark, lust-filled eyes seeing a similar shine within his green ones. A moment passed, before their lips met in another deep kiss; hands began to wander over naked skin as legs tangled and bodies pressed together. Ziva soon found herself being pressed into the blankets; Tim's weight- comforting, safe- atop her as his hands moved about her body, caressing her skin and finding her curves. Through their wild kisses, he whispered,

"Maybe if we get lucky, we won't have to pretend about a baby."

Something about that comment made her smile, and she nodded. "We had better start trying then."


	15. Chapter 15

**Rifiuto: Non Miriena**

**A/N:~ So I had lunch with Nate today. ***scoots up behind me and snakes arms around my waist* Did you know that he and his wife are on their third child? She's due in March. ****

****That's nice. ****

****~ And I've been thinking-****

****Look, Ev, I... I've been thinking... *******lays hand over his, trapping it against my stomach* I...**

**~ I want to try for a baby.**

***startled* What did you say? **

**~ I want to try to make a baby, Z. What were you gonna say? **

**The exact same thing. ***shifts in his arms to wrap my own around his neck* You really... you want to try? _Seriously_?****

**~ Absolutely. *grins* Now post that chapter. I don't know about you, *frees hand from my grip to slide lower* but I want to get started on making that baby as soon as possible. **

_"I was taught by my father that when someone is drowning you don't ask if they can swim, you just jump in and help."_

_- Irena Sendler (1910 - 2008), Polish Social Worker who rescued 2,500 Jewish Children from the Warsaw Ghetto _

Berlin, Germany

5:30 A.M.

_Adrian watched the older girl; she was apprehensive, frightened, of which he didn't blame her. Were he in her position, he'd be just as wary as she was. After a moment, he licked his lips and spoke again, slowly, so that she understood. "I won't hurt you. I promise." But she scooted further away- or tried to, there was nowhere to go- hugging her sister tighter to her chest. "Please." She didn't move; instead, she watched him, dark eyes drinking in every detail she could see through the darkness. After a moment, he tried again. "What's your name?"_

_In German the girl obviously hadn't used in a while, she choked out,_

_"Zahrah."_

_He furrowed a brow, confused by her pronunciation. He took a few minutes to try to get his mouth around the unfamiliar name, sounding it out slowly before,_

_"Z... Zara?" She furrowed a brow, listening to him pronounce it. "Your name is Zara?" Slowly, she nodded. "And what is her name?" The older girl glanced at her sister, before turning her gaze back to him. Her whisper barely reached his ears, but he was able to catch the name. "Eva?"_

_"Chava." He furrowed a brow._

_"Eva?" The girls shared a glance before Zahrah nodded. He gave both a small smile, before glancing over his shoulder. "Okay, come on." He quickly moved a few things that were blocking his way to the side and reached for them, but the older girl kicked out at him. "Hey, hey! I'm not trying to hurt you. I want to help you." He quickly backed up, giving both girls space to follow, and after several minutes, they did. Once they were standing in front of him, he asked, _

_"Is Eva your daughter?" The older girl cocked her head, thinking, before stammering, _

_"Schwester." _

_"Sister? She's your little sister?" The child_ _nodded, recognizing the word._ _Adrian nodded, taking a deep breath. He glanced at the sky above, guessing the time. Close to dawn; he wouldn't have much time to get home- but then his gaze drifted to the girls. Eva wrapped her arms tight around her sister's waist, face buried in her dress, but it was the older girl- Zara- who watched him with suspicion. He had to do something with them-_

_But he couldn't leave them alone, out here to fend for themselves, where they would most surely be picked up._

_After a moment, he reached into his pocket, pulling out the leaflets he'd copied from Chistophe's draft. In his head, he heard the last conversation Christophe had with him. The last words his friend ever spoke in his direction before he, Sophie and Hans been arrested and the rest had gone into hiding echoed in his head, telling him what he needed to do._

_"You must go on. If we are captured, you must get out and continue our work. Our voices have started the cry, but you need to keep it going. All of you who survive must keep fighting, must keep defying Hitler. Even the smallest ways can show him that we are not afraid. That we are willing to stand for what we believe is right."_

_He'd promised his friends that he would continue, that he would do all he could to keep what the White Rose had been- nonviolent resistance against Hitler- alive. His gaze moved over both girls as he realized what he had to do. It wasn't enough to just print a few leaflets and leave them around the city, hoping they would be read. No, words needed to be followed with actions- strong actions that clearly informed of the intention._

_These two girls- they were clearly Jews. And God only knew how they came to be in Berlin, or where they'd come from._

_They needed shelter; needed food and clean clothes, as well as a warm bed to sleep in for even a night. They needed help._

_A moment passed, before he reached out for the older girl, who stumbled back, pulling her sister with her. "No, no! I'm not going to hurt you! I want to help!" The older sister- Zara, he needed to remember her name- watched him, listening; she seemed to be translating what he was saying into whatever language was her natural one before translating back to German in her head. After a moment, she whispered,_

_"Hilfe?"_

_He nodded. "Yes. I want to help." He bit his lip. "Come with me, please." He held out a hand; Zara's eyes darted from his hand to his face and back. "I only want to help you." She glanced down at Eva, before taking a deep breath and reaching out, slowly placing his hand in hers. He gave her a soft smile before leading them out of they alley towards his bike. Thankfully, dawn had not yet come. He glanced at the girls and then down at his coat. Without a second thought, he removed first the coat- draping it gently over Eva's small body, making sure she was as covered as possible, before stripping off the lighter sweater he wore. He then turned to Zara, draping it around her shoulders. She caught his gaze, whispering something that sounded like "Tada" as she pulled the garment closer. He nodded, and then walked his bicycle out of the alley. "Stay close. Stick to the shadows and walk fast. Hurry." _

_Ever watchful, he hustled the two girls through the remaining shadows back to his home, keeping his ears peeled for any sound of them being followed. _


	16. Chapter 16

**Rifiuto: Non Miriena**

**A/N: Sorry guys, ***sprawls out on stomach at foot of bed in front of laptop*** had to take a break from the baby-making. It's exhausting... no matter how much fun it is. **

**~ *joins me on the bed on his stomach, sliding one hand up my bare back in circles* Yeah, but if it _works_-**

***Gibbs-slaps him* Don't jinx it! **

_"A major shortcoming of the Resistance is the outnumbering, before long, of the genuine warriors by camera-carrying midgets intent on leaving a record of their purported heroism."_

_-Coco Chanel (1883 - 1971), French Fashion Designer _

_Washington, D.C.,_

_Cafe con Leche Cafe_

_7:00 A.M._

Ziva sat outside the coffee shop, a cup of herbal tea warming her hands. She'd spent the morning shopping- using the credit card NCIS had given her. So far, though, all she'd bought was a copy of _What to Expect..._ at a small bookstore and a few other things pertaining to pregnancy, explaining to the curious woman at the counter that she and her husband were there for a conference, and that she'd left her copy of the book at home in Arlington. The woman had enthusiastically congratulated her, and even though she'd been uncomfortable, she'd accepted it with a smile.

Now, she sat reading through the book, keeping an eye out through sunglasses for Tim. It didn't take long for him to slide into the seat across from her with a quick kiss. "What have you been up to, Ella?" She glanced at him, before closing the book and setting it on the table and picking up her tea.

"Since I left our copy at home, I picked one up at the small bookstore down the street." Tim leaned close, reading the title upside down. He paled momentarily before it disappeared and he smiled at her.

"And you're already halfway through?" She shrugged, setting her cup down after taking a sip.

"I skipped to the chapters about going into labor and giving birth." She reached out, sliding her hand over his as she added,

"Did you know that by the time I go into labor, this little one will be the size of a small watermelon- a pliable watermelon- but still, a watermelon. I will push it out but I am sorry, Evan, I am _not_ giving birth in a hospital. I will give birth at home. Just me and you." Tim chuckled softly, squeezing her hand, watching as her other hand slid off the table to caress at her 'belly.' Ziva, surprisingly, had no problem pretending to be sixteen weeks pregnant- if Tim didn't know any better, she was practicing for when she actually got pregnant- of which they'd discussed at length early this morning after having made love again.

It was something Tim couldn't describe- something about Ziva that had caused him to pull her into his arms and kiss her in the bullpen on the day they met. Almost like... that attraction had always been there, simmering beneath the surface, waiting for them to get together to come out into the open. And clearly, the attraction was equal.

He'd laid in bed that morning, head against Ziva's chest, one hand tracing patterns on her stomach. The beat of her heart had lulled him to sleep, and he'd dreamt of a little girl with her skin tone and his eyes, long dark curls flowing down her back in pigtails. A child that looked exactly like Ziva- a little girl, named...

But his eyes had snapped open before he could call the child's name, and as he'd sat up, being careful not to wake Ziva, he'd told himself that he'd dreamed it up thanks to a raucous night of sex, that there was nothing to his dream. He'd shut the bathroom door silently behind him and then started the shower, allowing the water to beat into him the reality that this was an undercover mission, not to be spoiled by fantasies.

Ziva leaned closer, reaching up to take his other hand across the table. "Have you talked to Gibbs?" She whispered, meeting his gaze. He shook his head.

"No. But I did manage to find out exactly _what_ type of business Evan Zane was in." She leaned closer, eager to hear, but Tim stood up, having noticed something out of the corner of his eyes. "Are you done, Ella?" She nodded, catching quickly onto his switch in conversation. "Come on. Let's go get something to eat. Remember what our midwife said? It's crucial this early in your pregnancy that you eat healthy." Ziva stood, gathering her books and returning them to her bag before joining him. She slid her hand into his, kissing him quickly with a pout.

"But all I do is eat, Evan. I haven't _stopped_ eating since this baby was conceived." Tim chuckled, leaning close to whisper,

"Tony's gonna be waiting for us back at the hotel room- dressed as a room service waiter. He has more information on Evan Zane's business." She nodded, meeting his gaze before glancing over her shoulder.

"There has been a couple sitting at the table directly behind me since I got to the cafe. They followed me from the bookstore. I think..." Tim glanced over his shoulder; the couple she described were following behind them several feet.

Suddenly, a sense of urgency overcame him and he squeezed her hand. "Come on."

"Tim?" He met her gaze.

"Just play along, okay?" Sensing the urgency in his voice, she simply nodded. Without any sort of warning, Tim tightened his grip on her hand and tugged; they dashed through the streets, taking back avenues and side streets, the other couple matching them step for step.

"We are not losing them, Evan!" Ziva cried, glancing behind them. They took another shortcut, cutting through an alleyway that led back to the hotel. Once close, Tim glanced at her.

"Do you trust me?" She met his gaze.

"What?"

"Do you trust me?"

"Of course! But why-" Without a word, he tugged her into traffic; a quick glance behind them told him the couple following them had done the same thing. He looked up at the sound of a horn blasting. _"Evan!"_ Ziva's scream echoed in his ear as he shoved her to the right, throwing himself over her to cushion her fall as they rolled into the gutter. As he expected though, the couple had followed them, and while he and Ziva had managed to miss the truck-

He pushed himself onto the palms of his hands; he could see a body laying before the wheels of the truck. A moment passed, before he turned back to her. "You okay, Ella?" Ziva nodded, reaching up to wrap her arms around his neck.

"You usually save this type of play for the bedroom, Evan." She replied, as Tim chuckled softly and returned his comforting weight atop her; she sighed, happily protected beneath him. Tim glanced towards the truck once more, out of the corner of his eye.

They had been lucky- this time.


	17. Chapter 17

**Rifiuto: Non Miriena**

**A/N: I've never been so sore... but it's for a good reason, I _have_ to remember that.**

**Thanks to Reader for reviewing 14, 15, and 16.**

_"People should never think that you have to be a very special person to help those who need you."_

_- Miep Gies (1909 - 2010), One of the 'Helpers' who hid eight Jews- Anne Frank included- in the Secret Annex_

Berlin, Germany

6:30 A.M.

_Adrian didn't officially release the breath he'd been holding until they returned to his home._ _At one point, they had narrowly missed being caught by his neighbor who'd been out for a walk with his dog- and they'd only been able to miss him thanks to ducking into the alley not far from his home._

_There had been some close calls, but somehow, someway..._

_He shut the door softly behind the girls, making sure to lock it. "Adrian?" A small voice caused him pause and he turned. Cora stood in the foyer, dressed in only her nightgown, watching the two girls with apprehension and fear. "Who are these girls?" Somehow, during the trek home, Eva had slipped the coat over her head to hide her hair; it had drowned her anyway, but she'd looked like nothing more than a pair of legs at one point. Now though, the younger girl slowly lowered his coat, letting it drop to the floor. Cora drank in the sight of the two girls, staying silent for several minutes, before she let out a small shriek. "Jews! You brought Jews home-" But before she could continue her shrieking, Adrian leapt towards her, slamming his hand onto her mouth to silence her._

_"Shh! Do you want to wake Mother and Father? Or alert the Gestapo?" She looked up at him; he'd wrapped his other arm around her waist, holding her to him. "Now I'm going to let go of your mouth, but you have to promise not to scream. Are we clear, Cora?" The girl didn't respond. "Cora!" Finally, she nodded, and slowly, he released her. The teenager pulled away._

"_But Adrian, how could you even think of-" He glanced towards the girls and then grabbed his sister's arm, yanking her into the kitchen._

_"I found them in an alleyway out behind the courthouse-"_

_"What? What were you doing-" She stopped, suddenly taking in his clothes. "You were making leaflets, weren't you?" Tears began to well in her eyes and he sighed._

_"I have to continue Hans and Sophie's work, Cora, don't you understand?"_

_"But they are dead, Adrian! And what can a bunch of leaflets do other than waste what little precious paper we have?" He took a deep breath, glancing towards the foyer where he knew Zara and Eva were waiting. "What are you going to do with a couple of... of Jewish girls?"_

_"Cora, the mission of the White Rose was to resist Hitler through nonviolence and our words. And we did... we tried... but now Sophie and Hans are gone... we need to do something that makes a difference."_

_"So what are you suggesting, Adrian?" She asked. He glanced towards the foyer. Cora immediately shook her head. "No! You are... you're not seriously suggesting we hide them! Adrian, what if Mother and Father find out? They will alert the Gest-"_

_"No they won't, Cora. Father feels the same as I do- hell, he and his colleagues make leaflets after work and distribute them! And Mother... Mother will come around eventually. Please, Cora, these girls... they need us." His sister sighed, pulling away and going back towards the foyer. The older girl had knelt down and wrapped who appeared to be her sister in her arms, holding her close. They were talking softly together in either Yiddish or Hebrew, Cora couldn't tell which. She took a deep breath, turning as Adrian joined her._

_"We have to help them, Cora. If we were in the same position, wouldn't you want someone to help us?"The teenager sighed, turning back to the girls; the oldest watched them with suspicious dark eyes. The teenager turned back to her brother. __"Cora, do I have to repeat it? Listen to me- the mission of the White Rose was to resist Hitler through nonviolence- nonviolence- and our words. And we did... we tried... but now that Sophie and Hans are gone... and that the group has disbanded... we need to do something- anything- that makes a difference."_

_"So what are you suggesting, Adrian?" She asked again, voice slow and firm as though talking to a child. He glanced towards the foyer again, biting his lip. Cora shook her head, firmer this time. "No! No, Adrian! You are... you're not seriously suggesting we hide them! Adrian, what if Mother and Father find out? Do you hear me? They will alert the-"_

_"No. They. Won't, Cora. Father feels the same as I do, you know that- you know that he and his colleagues make leaflets after work and distribute them! You know that! And Mother..." He took a deep breath, calming down. "Mother will come around eventually. Please, Cora, please... these girls... they need us. They need help." His sister sighed, turning from her brother again to face the girls._

_"We have to help them, Cora, whether you like it or not. If we were in the same position, wouldn't you want someone to help us? If we were in their position wouldn't you want the same? Someone to help?" She took a deep breath, squaring her shoulders._

_"I will go make coffee." And without a word, Cora turned and made her way into the kitchen. Once she was gone, Adrian made his way to the girls. Zara immediately stepped in front of Eva, a mother lion prepared to protect her cub at all costs. He held his hands out, moving towards her cautiously._

_"I won't hurt either of you, and neither will Cora. She's just making coffee."_

_"Cora?" Zara asked, trying to make sure she'd heard correctly through his accent. He nodded. "Schwester?"_

_"Yes. Cora's my little sister." He turned, hearing the creak of the floorboards overhead. "Come on. Into the kitchen. Let's get you both something to eat."_


	18. Chapter 18

**Rifiuto: Non Miriena**

**A/N: Hey guys, it's Ev. Z's curled up beside me sound asleep right now- I have a feeling I wore her out. I told her if I was still up from our activities, I'd post her chapters... er... chapter is more like it. There's only one chapter done and ready to post. Z and I usually go for a run together at about 5:30, but I think staying in and... sleeping... sounds like a better plan, especially... you know, considering. Anyway, let me get this posted for you and then I'll start working on the next chapter. I don't think Z'd mind.**

**... and if she does, she can fix it.**

_"_Do not fear to be eccentric in opinion, for every opinion now accepted was once eccentric_."_

_- Bertand Russell _(1872 - 1970), 20th Century British Philosopher and Political Activist_ _

_Oświęcim Hotel _

_Suite 145 _

_9:00 A.M._

A knock sounded at the door of their suite, and after a moment, Tim got up from his place on the sofa beside Ziva to answer it. He wasn't surprised to find Tony at the door, dressed as a room service waiter with a tray. As he entered, Tim returned to Ziva, taking a seat beside her and resuming his work on tending to the cut on her forehead. They'd managed to come out of their encounter with the other couple and the truck with only minor bruises and scrapes; the woman who'd been hit had been taken to the hospital, but the man...

Tim didn't mind that admitting that he was glad one of them was dead.

"Got that room service you ordered, Mr. Zane." Tim met his partner's eyes, giving him a silent nod. Tony watched the pair, noticing hte cuts and bruises, the scrapes that would take a couple days to heel. Gibbs had been on the street during the accident, pretending to buy a cup of coffee from a street vendor- well, in actuality, he hadn't been pretending about the coffee- and had been one of the first on the scene, rushing to his agents, playing the role of concerned citizen instead of concerned boss for the sake of the op. He parked the cart by the table and set the plates on top of it, before reaching beneath the tablecloth and pulling something out.

Tim looked up as Tony made his way to him, holding out a tan, unmarked envelope. As he held the envelope out, he leaned forward, whispering quickly in Tim's ear,

"This is all the information we were able to gather for you on Evan Zane's business. It goes into more detail than what you had found out earlier, Tim." The younger agent nodded, and quickly pulled his wallet out of his pocket, handing Tony a few bills.

"Thank you." With a nod, Tony retrieved the cart and left.

Once he'd left, Tim got up, heading into the bedroom. After a moment, Ziva followed, taking a seat across from him on the bed, watching as he pulled out the information Tony had given them. She propped her chin on her folded hands, watching in silence as he pulled out each slip of paper or stack of information and laid it out. As he set the envelope aside, she reached out, grabbing the nearest piece of paper and studying it. Her brow furrowed. "The selling of World War Two..." She stopped, meeting Tim's gaze.

He nodded. "That was Evan Zane's business- he bought various articles and things pertaining to the second war and sold them on the black market for thousands upon thousands of dollars." Sighing, Tim picked up a photocopy of an article that had at one point, passed through Evan Zane's hands and handed it to her. "But his specialty were things from the Holocaust... letters from Irena Sendler, smuggled from the Warsaw Ghetto... the typist blocks used by the students of the White Rose Resistance to make their leaflets... pocket watch belonging to Raoul Wallenberg... the coat of Oskar Schindler... toothbrushes, shoes, eyeglasses... look- his lampshade was one of them."

With trembling hands, Ziva took the photocopy- it looked just like any other lampshade, until she read the description."Made from... human skin?" Her eyes widened and she paled. Tim nodded, silent. "This... this was from the _Shoah_?"

"Yeah. And it made it all the way to New Orleans- passed through Zane's hands at some point." Ziva swallowed, feeling sick at the thought that someone could sell something from such a horrendous time and sell it for money.

"So... let me... understand... Evan Zane was... a dealer on the black market... selling... things from the Holocaust?" When she met Tim's gaze, she saw the same look in his green eyes.

"He made millions. He was with the IRA working as an assassin from the time he was sixteen until he turned twenty-four when he fled Ireland for America. Met Adella a year later and married her after two years together."

"And Adella didn't know about what he was doing?"

"It doesn't look like it." Tim replied, flipping through a file. He stopped however, when something caught his attention. "Although... Ziva, look at this." They moved until they were sitting side by side, and he pointed to what had caught his eye. "It says here that... that at some point, he started to change his business dealings, from... selling Holocaust objects to... to find them."

"So he... went from dealer to... to treasure hunter?" She furrowed a brow, confused. "Why?"

But Tim didn't answer as he was frantically looking through a stack of paper-clipped files, looking for something specific. Eventually, he stopped. "This." Ziva leaned to look over his shoulder. "This is what he was looking for."

She struggled to read the names, thanks to the crappy photocopy, but finally gave up as Tim's voice rang loud and clear the artifact from Evan Zane's list.

"The diary, locket, bicycle and ring of... Zara Hirsch and Adrian Fromm."


	19. Chapter 19

**Rifiuto: Non Miriena**

**A/N: Sorry guys, that passage in 17 was supposed to be fixed, so I went back and fixed it- Z's curled up in front of the fireplace, with a blanket and pillow reading _The Dovekeepers_. I'm here on the sofa, working on chapter 19- she's decided that I can do the Zahrah/Adrian chapters as long as I leave the McGiva chapters for her- watching her devour every word of the novel and trail one hand slowly over her belly. She's been doing that a lot since we started trying, and I'm beginning to wonder if she already knows- or if she at least _suspects_. **

**Thanks to Reader for reviewing 17 and 18.**

_"Were there atheists in foxholes during World War II? Of course, as can be verified by my dogtags... A veteran of Omaha Beach in 1944, I insisted upon including 'None' instead of P, C, or J as my religious affiliation."_

_- Warren Allen smith (1921-), Activist_

Berlin, Germany

7:45 A.M.

_Zahrah watched in silence as Chava devoured the slice of bread the teenage girl had set before her. A small smile came to her face at the sight of her sister enjoying something they hadn't had for what seemed like years- a simple slice of bread with a pat of butter. She however, had yet to touch her bread, preferring the strong taste of the coffee to the food the teenager had set before her at the table. She wrapped her hands tightly around the mug, letting the cup warm her skin, and after a moment, she shivered._

_"What is wrong, Zahrah?" Chava asked around a mouthful._

_"Do not speak with food in your mouth, Chava. You are not a cow wandering the fields." A moment passed before the girl swallowed._

_"Sorry." She gave the child a small, warm smile; relieved to see how such a small gift could bring such joy to her last surviving relative, for she was certain that both their parents and their older siblings were long dead by now- if not dying within the camps Hitler had set up for the Jews. She reached out, laying a hand over her sister's small fingers._

_"It is okay. But we are guests with these..." She glanced over her shoulder; the young man- Adrian, she thought he'd told her- leaned against the doorway, hands in his pockets, watching the sisters, and the teenage girl was sitting at the table between the sisters, head in her hands, watching them both, though her gaze kept returning to Chava, not that the child cared. "We are guests. That does not mean we can forget our manners. Abba and Ima raised us to be courteous. It is the least we can... do for them, to remember what they taught us." She swallowed the lump in her throat, and quickly sipped her coffee._

_"Zahrah, where will we go now?" She bit her lip, afraid to answer her sister, and quickly glanced back over her shoulder. The young man watched her- Adrian, she must remember his name- green eyes bright with something she couldn't identify. After a moment, she got up, going to him. She ducked her head when she got close, suddenly shy. _

_"Th... thank you. This... this will... allow us to... to keep going until we... reach safety..." He furrowed a brow; though her German was rusty, she thought she'd made herself clear. _

_"Gehen? Where do you think you will go? You're a Jew- if you leave this house, you will be caught by the Gestapo, taken to the camps and killed." Her face fell, and she lowered her head. "No. You and Eva will not go anywhere. Not tonight or tomorrow or any other night. You will stay here."_

_It took a moment before his words penetrated her brain, and when she looked up, she knew that her eyes held surprise and fear. Her mouth dropped slightly, and she glanced back at her sister, who sat talking in rapid, garbled German with Adrian's younger sister. When she turned back to him, he was watching her with a mixture of what she could only describe as amusement and sadness- his eyes looked as though they'd seen far too much pain and death within his short lifetime, as though he'd lived a thousand lives and died a thousand deaths in the course of a few short years._

_She shook her head. "No. We could not... impose." She finally finished, struggling to think of the correct word._

_"You won't be."_

_"But your parents-"_

_He pushed himself away from the wall and straightened. "Will never know that they are hiding Jews." He replied, and then, beckoned her to follow him after a quick, "Cora, keep Eva company." _

_"Chava." He turned to her as he led her up the stairs to the second floor. _

_"What?" _

_"Her name is Chava. Not Eva." He nodded, digesting the information. _

_"Avha." As she fell into step beside him, he watched her wrinkle her nose at his pronunciation._

_"No. Chava." She replied, placing emphasis on the 'ch' of her sister's name. It was his turn to stare at her strangely, and he stopped, turning to her._

_"Hava?" Zahreh shook her head._

_"No. Cha-va." She spoke slowly, chopping the name into two words so that he could follow her. He ran through it in his head, before finally giving up, and shrugging in that way that he'd been known for at University- the thin smile, quick rise and slow fall of his shoulders as he shook his head slowly from side to side. She rolled her eyes, pursing her lips, unaware of how his gaze flicked quickly to her mouth. Before either could speak or he could act on the thought that crossed his mind, he grabbed her hand, tugging her down the hall towards his bedroom. They slipped inside and he shut the door softly behind them, turning to her._

_"You will stay here." She looked around the room, confused._

_"In your room?" She asked, turning to him. "A German should not lie with a Jew-" But he ignored her, moving past towards the wall beside his closet. She stopped talking, watching as he moved his dresser to the side, closer to the bedroom door. Her jaw dropped as he revealed the good-sized hole in his wall, hidden behind the dresser. Brushing his hair out of his eyes, he turned to her._

_"No. Here. In the wall." _


	20. Chapter 20

**Rifiuto: Non Miriena**

**A/N: The idea for hiding the girls in the wall came from an older woman I know that served as a nurse in the Korean War. She was raised in Berlin, and at age 12, she and her parents hid four Jewish children in the walls of their house for about a year, I think she said. Her father also made fake visas and IDs for Jews and gave them to every Jew he met on the street. Anyway, she came home from school one day to find her parents gone, the children gone and the house a mess. The Gestapo came the next day and took her to Auschwitz. She survived both it and Dachau, but lost both her parents to the Holocaust. She immigrated to America when she was fourteen, after the war ended. She keeps wanting me to tell her story- I hope this will do. - Z**

**A/N: Z wanted me to post this for her- she's still working her way through _The Dovekeepers_- "because Cote's in the series and it's coming out next year and I want to have read the book before I watch the series"- and she's still running her hand over her belly. Now I'm dying to know. I don't think she realizes what that simple action is doing to me. I know it's _way_ too soon to know or even speculate, but I _have_ to know if there's even the slightest possibility that I'm going to be a daddy.- Ev**

_"Thou shalt not be a victim, thou shalt not be a perpetrator, but, above all, thou shalt not be a bystander."_

_- Yehuda Bauer (1926-), Czechoslovakian-born Israeli historian of the Holocaust_

_Oswiecim Hotel_

_10:30 A.M._

Ziva scooted closer, picking up the files and placing them to the side as she joined Tim at the head of the bed. She leaned close, unsure that she'd heard correctly. "Wait, so... he went from... buying and selling Holocaust items on the black market to... to searching for them?" Tim nodded, his gaze moving quickly over the file he held in his hand.

"Wait a minute-" He set the file down, reaching for the stack of papers Ziva had moved.

"Tim... what are you looking for?" But he ignored her, searching, before the shuffling of papers stopped and he pulled out a thick stack of papers held together with a massive paper clip.

"Zia, look at this." He whispered, unaware of the slip she caught, though she said nothing. Instead, she leaned close, resting her chin on his shoulder as he flipped through the papers. "This is... all on the White Rose."

"The White what?" She asked, furrowing a brow.

"The White Rose. It was a... nonviolent resistance group of college students at Munich University from about forty-one and forty-three. They printed up leaflets and distributed them all around Munich, protesting and speaking out against Hitler's regime. In late forty-two the majority of the members were caught and taken to trial. Most of them were executed for treason against the Reich... but there were a few that managed to escape." They sat in silence, reading through the information Evan Zane had managed to collect on the White Rose, its movement and members.

"So... they spoke out... in support of the Jews... and because of that... they were executed." Ziva whispered, reaching up and tangling her fingers in the chain of her Star of David. She was pale, tears misting her eyes at the thought of a bunch of mere college students standing against Hitler for a people they didn't even know. Her Great-Aunt Nettie had been the only one of her mother's daughters to survive the _Shoah_- out of six children, only Nettie and Abraham- the twins- had managed to survive the horrors of the Nazi genocide against Jews.

Both had moved to Israel as teenagers; Abraham had married eventually, but had never spoken of the horrors he and his sister had witnessed as children- not even Eli knew of his father's past, and the only reason Ziva knew, was because Nettie had been willing to share of her experiences with her great-nieces and great-nephew. She still bore the scars of abuse and hunger from the camps, the tattoo she'd been branded with- eight-nine-five-two-three-one- though faded, still on her arm. Somehow, someway, Nettie and Abraham had managed to avoid Auschwitz's resident 'Angel of Death', Dr. Josef Mengele, for which both were grateful.

"Yeah. All in their late teens or early twenties." Ziva hissed softly, closing her eyes. After a moment, she opened her eyes, watching as Tim continued to read through each biography. And then he stopped.

"Tim? What is it?" She leaned close to read what he was so engrossed in, but when she laid eyes upon it, she stopped. It wasn't a biography or an article- it was a photograph.

It was a grainy photocopy of an old black and white photograph of a bunch of University students, sitting together on the grass; they appeared to have been deep in conversation when the photograph was taken, for almost all were looking at each other, unaware of the photograph being taken.

All except one.

There, in the center of the circle, between two young women- one with short, straight hair and the other with long curls- sat a young man in a pair of uniform slacks and white shirt with a light coat open over his lanky frame. The girl to his right had her arm through his and appeared to be listening intently to whatever conversation had been taking place when the photograph had been taken. But the young man-

Tim squinted. He looked vaguely familiar, but the photograph was so grainy he couldn't recall if he'd seen the photo before or not. Ziva let her gaze rove over each face, before moving to the names scrawled beneath in what was obviously Evan Zane's handwriting. She grabbed Tim's hand. "Tim, look." Quietly, she read the names aloud to him as she pointed to each, stopping when she got to the young man staring directly at the camera. He met her gaze, his mind on the same train of thought.

"_Adrian Fromm_."


	21. Chapter 21

**Rifiuto: Non Miriena**

**A/N: Hey guys. Here's the next chapter. Z's moved to the sofa... hold on... *reaches over and slips hand over her belly* Well? **

**~ Too soon to know, Ev. We've only been trying for a few days-**

**And you've been off your pills for three weeks because _someone_ ran out and forgot to _refill_. **

**~ I didn't..._ exactly_ forget. And we've been using protection up until about... two weeks ago. But I'm hoping. **

**Well you're getting _my_ hopes up. And probably all of theirs, too. **

**~ I doubt they would care whether we have a baby or not, or whether we're even trying. They're my readers, they don't care about trivial things like making babies. I know it sounds harsh, but-**

**How can you say that? They've invested in your writing and... and in this, since we've been sharing it with them. I'm sure if it turns out that we are, they'll be thrilled for you. **

**~ You think? **

**I know they will be. And even if we aren't, we'll keep on trying. **

**~ You still want to keep trying with me? **

**Absolutely. *pulls her into my lap* I love you. And... if it doesn't happen the first time, we'll keep trying until it does. I _love you_, Z. I'll try with you for the next two hundred years if you'll let me. **

**~ I love you, too, Ev. *curls into his arms* I want this so much. **

**I know, Z. Believe me, I know. I want it too. **

**- Sorry guys. Here's 21. **

_"The simple step of a courageous individual is not to take part in the lie. One word of truth outweighs the world."_

_- Aleksandr Solzhenitsyn (1918 - 2008), Nobel Prize-winning Russian novelist_

Berlin, Germany

8:00 A.M.

_Adrian watched her dark eyes dart from the hole in the wall of his room to him and back. Clearly, she was in shock. Honestly, he didn't blame her. After several minutes, she was finally able to form some semblance of words. "You... you cannot be... be serious." She met his gaze. "You want Chava and I to live within a wall? How? It... it is not possible! There is not room for even a mouse, let alone two girls!"_

_He shook his head, moving to the hole and beckoning her forward. Slowly, she followed. "It's plenty big enough for both you and your sister." He said, as she leaned in to look inside. He was right. It looked almost like a small ante chamber within a castle, hidden away from the world. There appeared to be enough space for movement as well as to lie down, and even place a few things for safekeeping. After a moment, she leaned back and turned to him._

_"How did you make this?"_

_"I didn't. When we bought the house, Father did some work fixing it up, and he came across it, but then he got busy and never bothered to fix the hole he left. It's a good thing he didn't." She turned back to the wall._

_"So... you expect Chava and I to... to hide in here." He nodded. "For how long?"_

_Adrian shrugged; he hadn't really thought about how long they'd have to stay hidden. "... maybe until the war ends."_

_"But that could be years!" She cried. He rushed to her, clamping a hand over her mouth. Her eyes widened at the close contact, and their gazes locked. He held a finger to his lips._

_"Shh. You have to be quiet. My parents are asleep. Okay?" She nodded, and slowly, he released his grip on her._

_"What if they find us? They will turn Chava and I into the Gestapo!" But he shook his head, reaching out and taking her face in his hands._

_"No, Zara, they won't. Father feels the same way I do. He believes that Hitler is destroying the country, and the world, and destroying the Jews in some... misguided bid for complete world control. Today, when I found you, I was coming back from the courthouse. My father is a lawyer, but at night he makes leaflets and pamphlets protesting the Nazi regime. He doesn't believe like the rest of Germany does. There are good Germans, Zara. My family are some of them."_

_She bit her lip, glancing towards the door. "What... do you expect us to do during the day? Stay within the wall while you go to school?"_

_"I don't go to school anymore. I had to... leave because of the group I was affiliated with. We were nonviolent, lashing out at Hitler through words and paper, and those that led it were captured- put on trial and beheaded. Those of us that survived, we had to flee. Cora goes to school, but I'm not going back. I can do more good outside it than I ever could in." He sighed, as she studied his face. "Look, give me a couple of days to figure this out, okay?" After a moment, she nodded. "Good."_

_Then, without a word, he quickly gathered blankets and pillows and laid them within the wall, spreading them out so the girls could climb beneath and settle down for the nights ahead. At one point, he felt Zara's eyes on him and turned; she'd perched on his bed, and sat watching him, playing with something that hung around her neck. Once done, he stood, going to the door. "Stay here. I'm going to go downstairs and get your sister." She nodded, fear reflecting in her eyes. As he turned to go, the sight stopped him and he turned back. Unable to stop himself, he returned to her, leaning down towards her. She tilted her head up to look at him, and after a moment, he brushed a soft kiss to her forehead; their eyes closed as their skin touched._

_He pulled away far too soon for both of their comforts, and hurried downstairs, soon returning with Cora and Chava in tow. _


	22. Chapter 22

**Rifiuto: Non Miriena**

**A/N: Can you tell I have babies on the brain?**

_""Never let your sense of morals prevent you from doing what is right."_

_- Isaac Asimov (1920 - 1992), Science Fiction Author _

_Oswiecim Hotel_

_3:00 A.M._

Tim brushed a kiss to Ziva's forehead. "... I love you, Ella." He breathed, tucking the blankets around his partner before slipping out of the room. He'd left a note on the nightstand, letting her know he was heading down to the cafe and that he'd taken the envelope with his research so he could review everything and follow up before meeting his business 'partners'- whomever they were.

Once down in the cafe, he wrapped his hands around his coffee and flipped through the files. Zane had collected maps, photocopies of leaflets, letters, journal entries, even little mentions by people who had known the two-

He sighed. For some reason, Zane had wanted to get his hands on those belongs- things that obviously and clearly belonged to two people who had lived during the second war. But why?

He quickly pulled up a search on his tablet, typing in the name '_Adrian Fromm'_- the search brought up over a million results. A sigh escaped his throat, before he cleared the search and added the words, 'White Rose' before trying again. This time, the search brought up a little less than a million- but almost all focused more on the Scholl siblings than the minor, more obscure members of the group. Finding nothing that could aid him in the mystery of Adrian, he once more cleared the search.

After quickly checking the name, he typed in '_Zara Hirsch_'- over a million results came up, most for doctors, lawyers or business owners in various areas of the United States. Once more, he cleared the search engine, adding '_White Rose_', but came up empty. Another search of '_Second World War_' and _'World War Two_' brought the same results. He took a deep breath, running through the terms he remembered learning in school in regards to the mistreatment of the Jews during the war- death camps, genocide, and Nazi all came back empty.

It didn't make any sense.

Every word he could think of, every term relating to the War brought back nothing- he stopped, fingers suspended over the keys of his tablet. His mind rushed back to the conversation he'd had with Ziva the night before, as they'd lain in bed after they'd made love, sharing kisses and caresses and whispered words.

_"I know there were some who hid Jews from the Nazis. In Israel, we call those people 'Righteous Among the Nations.'" _

Without a second thought, he typed out the name and then added 'hidden' to the end before pressing _Enter_. Instantly, an entirely new set of search results appeared- mostly small articles about the children that had become hidden during the Holocaust. He scrolled through the pages, before something caught his eye. Quickly, he moved the mouse towards it-

A hand on his shoulder caused him to jump, he clicked the link unknowingly, and turned, prepared to snap at whoever had snuck up on him- only to find Ziva standing behind him, looking put together, with the exception of the circles beneath her eyes. "God, Ella, you scared me. What are you doing up?"

She shrugged, taking a seat beside him. "I woke up to find you gone." She swallowed, reaching for his coffee cup and taking a sip. "And then read your note, promptly went into the bathroom and threw up."

He chuckled softly, before her words sank in. Instantly, concern filled him, and he leaned close. "Are you okay? You aren't sick are you?" He reached up, resting his hand to her forehead. She allowed it, feeling too drained from her time in the bathroom to pull away.

"I am fine, Tim." She whispered. "It is probably just a touch of the flu."

He nodded, and before he could stop himself,

"But you're pregnant, Ella. Vomiting is to be expected, remember?" She met his gaze, her eyes widening in surprise. After a moment, she leaned close.

"Yes, _Ella_ is pregnant, Evan. But _Tim_... I am not." He studied her face, weighing his words before he spoke.

"Are you sure?" She nodded. "When was your last period?" She instantly stopped nodding, running through it in her head.

"I... am supposed to start... today." He returned his gaze to the tablet with a soft,

"I'm sure you'll start-" Ziva snorted softly, grabbing his cup and taking another sip, prepared to reply to his 'typical' male response, when she stopped. He wasn't watching her, wasn't paying attention anymore to the conversation; instead, his gaze was skimming over the article he'd pulled up earlier, drinking in every detail. She yipped softly as he grabbed her hand, squeezing tightly. She bit her lip briefly,

"I am the one who is supposed to be squeezing your hand this tightly- during labor, Evan." She managed a weak grin at her joke, but he wasn't paying attention. "Tim? What are you looking at?"

"Look at this. I... I think I found Zara Hirsch." She scooted closer, looking over his shoulder.

On the webpage was an article- beneath the title, was a photograph. It was a group of teenagers and children, taken within the Warsaw Ghetto not long after the Jews in Warsaw had been taken to it. He pointed to one of the young women, standing to the left; she had a younger girl in her arms- the child's arms were around her neck, their cheeks pressed together. Both were smiling; clearly, though the war had touched them, it hadn't done as much damage as it later would.

"They are a bunch of children-"

"I'm not talking about them. I'm talking about the name- look. Zah-rah?"

"Zahrah, it is Hebrew for blooming flower, I believe." Ziva replied. She leaned close, going pale as Tim spoke what she was thinking.

"Ziva, she... she looks almost _exactly_ like you."


	23. Chapter 23

**Rifiuto: Non Miriena**

**A/N: Hey guys, Z's still at... *startled to see her come through the door* hey babe... how was rehearsal? *watches Z toss her dance bag onto the armchair and then flop down onto the sofa* **

**~ Just peachy considering I spent the _majority_ of my time dashing between the dance floor and the bathroom. *pushes laptop away and curls up with head in lap* I don't feel well, Ev. **

***brushing fingers to her forehead* You might have a touch of fever, Z, but... nothing serious. **

**~ One of the older girls thought I might be pregnant- she said that I 'look like' I could be. I told her that was ridiculous... that we've been trying but... that we haven't gotten anywhere.**

**You never know, Z. *picks up coffee cup to take a sip; she springs from sofa* Z? Honey, are you- **

**~ I'm gonna be sick! *slams bathroom door, followed by the sound of vomiting***

**... here's the next chapter, guys. I'll be right back.**

**Thanks to Reader for reviewing 19, 20, 21 and 22.**

_"I encounter on example after another of how relative truth is. "_

_- Raoul Wallenberg (1912 - 1947?), Swedish Diplomat who Saved tens of thousands of Hungarian Jews_

Berlin, Germany

8:30 A.M.

_She looked up as he returned, the younger girls in tow. Instantly, she sprang from the bed, folding her hands in front of her. "Zahrah!" Chava rushed to her sister, throwing her arms around the child. "I thought we were leaving. Why did they bring me up here?" She sighed, kneeling down to take her sister's face in her hands. A moment passed, before she glanced up at the young man- Adrian, his name was Adrian. He nodded to her as he softly shut the door. "Zahrah?"_

_Taking a deep breath, she turned back to her sister. "We have not left yet because... we will not be leaving. We will be staying here. They are hel... helping us." She choked, the words getting caught. Chava furrowed a brow, before turning to Adrian and his sister._

_"But... where will we sleep?" It was then that Zahrah turned her gaze towards the hole in the wall. After a moment, Chava followed, and her dark eyes widened in shock as she slowly made her way towards wall. She reached out to touch it, but turned back towards the two siblings instead. "Did you make it?" She asked; the older girl cocked her head, turning to Adrian, who chuckled at the child's broken German. _

_"No. Our father found the chamber, but we never fixed it. And a good thing, too." And before Zahrah could say a word, he'd made his way towards them, turning to face her. "Now come on. It may be almost nine in the morning, but you both need to sleep." She glanced towards the wall, and after a moment, made her way towards the hole, leaning in to quickly inspect it._

_He'd been sure to lay down blankets and a couple pillows so they would be able to sleep, and while it didn't look very... comfortable... at least it was better than sleeping on the cold ground or in dirty alleyways, or even the sewers as they'd done when they escaped the ghetto. Though it looked cramped, at least it was inside; they would have four walls protecting them from the elements and those in the street who wished them harm._

_When she turned back, it was to him holding out a hand. Her gaze moved from his hand to his face and back, before she glanced down at Chava. After a moment, she slid her hand into his, allowing him to help her into the wall, and then took Chava into her arms when he scooped the child up. The child curled into her embrace, frightened by the sudden change of circumstances, and Zahrah held her close._

_"Zara." She looked up to find him leaning in through the hole. "I'm going to push the dresser back in front of the hole. Cora has school at ten, and Father will be at work- Mother will be downstairs. I'll be going back and forth from downstairs back up here. Okay? I'll bring you both something to eat around noon. But until then, get some sleep, okay? It has been a long night."_

_As he moved away, she reached out, grabbing his arm. He turned back, startled at the contact. Her widened dark eyes darted to his face and back before she let go of his arm. "What will we do all day? We cannot stay in here forever." _

_He thought a moment. "I'll let you out when I come back up around noon, okay? You can walk around and stretch your legs, but you are going to have to be quiet."_

_She nodded before watching him pull away. Soon, the back of the dresser settled before her, followed by the sibling's voices. "But why can't I miss school tomorrow?"_

_"Because you need to go to school, Cora!" Once the voices faded away, Zahrah lay down among the blankets; Chava curled into her side, burying her face in her older sister's chest. She pulled the blanket tight around them, pressing a kiss to Chava's hair. _

_"Zahrah?" _

_"Hmm?" A moment passed before the child choked out, _

_"I want Abba and Ima." She tightened her hold on the girl. _

_"I know, Chava. I want them too. But we are safe, which is what Abba and Ima wanted. Hush, Chava." She buried her face in her sister's hair, letting the child cry softly, tears coming to her own eyes, even as she blinked them away. Eventually, Chava's quiet sobs faded into even breathing, and Zahrah loosened her grip on the child._

_But sleep did not come easily for her; she lay within the boundaries between the walls of the house, listening to it settle and creak, to the distant, very muffled sounds of gunfire in the distance, and feared that every groan or movement of the house were actually the boots of the Gestapo, come into the house and up towards the bedroom, ready to take them away._


	24. Chapter 24

**Rifiuto: Non Miriena**

**A/N: How long has this been going on, Z? **

**~ You're studying to be a _JAG lawyer_, Ev, not a doctor.**

**It's ten in the evening. I am not driving you down to emergency for something we can treat at home. Now sit. *watches her plop down onto the sofa* How long has this been going on, love? **

**~ *Shrugs* Since... last Monday or so, right around the time we decided to start trying.**

**And you didn't think to tell me?**

**~ I didn't think it was important! I just figured I'd caught a cold from being at the studio! Or if it wasn't a cold, I figured it was PMS- you know how I get in the days before my period starts. *presses her palm to her forehead, thinking* And then I was supposed to start yesterday and I didn't... I just figured it was stress or a cold or-**

**You've always been regular, right? **

**~ No. I finally got to be regular when I started taking birth control, you know that. It's probably just a couple days late. I... I'm _sure_ I'll get it tomorrow or the next day. I'm just not feeling well tonight is all.**

_"After all, an end in terror is preferable to terror without end."_

_Inge Scholl (1917 - 1998), Sister of Hans and Sophie Scholl_

_Oświęcim Hotel_

_Suite 145_

_5:00 A.M._

"This does not make any sense!" Tim glanced out of the corner of his eye; Ziva was pacing back and forth, waving her hands around in a very Italian-style form of talking. She was disheveled, for she'd spent the last forty-five minutes in the bathroom, vomiting. "How can that woman look like me? I have never seen her in my entire life! I have rarely left Israel! This is... ridiculous!" She turned to him, but Tim wasn't paying attention. "Are you listening to me? Evan!" She stormed towards him, flipping the tablet closed and taking it away. "Are you even listening at all to anything I am saying?"

"She was a Holocaust survivor."

_"What?"_

Tim met her gaze; there was some strange light in his eyes that Ziva couldn't identify, and she didn't have the patience or the stamina to try and figure out what it was. It took a moment, before finally, he took a deep breath and held out the files he'd asked Tony to print out earlier. She handed the tablet back, accepting the files he offered. She quickly flipped through the files- they were all testimonies or letters or stories about Zahrah Hirsch- a young Jewish woman of about eighteen or nineteen, who had somehow managed to escape and survive the Holocaust.

"She lived in the Warsaw Ghetto. Somehow, she managed to survive the Uprising in April nineteen-forty-three, with her younger sister, Chava."

She met Tim's gaze, thinking. "I do not understand. How does... Adrian Fromm fit into this?"

He sighed, pulling out another set of files Tony had run off for him. "I don't know... listen, Adrian Fromm had been a student at the University of Munich, from nineteen-forty to roughly nineteen-forty-three. During his time at University, he served on the Eastern Front; that was how he met Hans Scholl."

"The one that started that... group, yes?" Ziva asked, returning to flipping through the files. Tim nodded.

"Yeah. He met Sophie in a biology course- he was originally going to be a doctor, it says here. In forty-two when Hans and Sophie started the White Rose, he joined, and distributed leaflets. When Hans and Sophie were arrested, he had returned from distributing leaflets. It says here that... he hid on campus with Lilo Ramdohr and watched the Gestapo take them away. Afterwards, it says that they went in and gathered the scattered leaflets and took them into hiding."

"What happened after?"

Tim quickly flipped through the files, searching for the information on what happened after Fromm's time at university. "Well, it says that... he would make and distribute the leaflets left from the White Rose in Berlin... and he... wow."

Ziva went to him, taking a seat on the sofa beside him. "What?"

"He... it... it says that... Adrian Fromm survived Auschwitz."

"The death camp?" Ziva asked, reaching up and clutching her necklace; Tim nodded. "But... how did he end up there? He was a German-"

"He was also a student who spoke out against the Third Reich, Ziva. And if he was still distributing those leaflets after the group had disbanded," Tim shrugged. "He could have been captured and sent to Auschwitz. Hitler disposed of anyone who spoke out against him. And despite six million Jews dying in the Holocaust, there were Jews that survived the camps- they went to Israel or immigrated to America after the war ended."

She took a deep breath, gaze going to the photograph she held. "And what about her? Zahrah? Where does she fit into... his story?" She gestured to the files on Adrian. Tim dropped the files on the coffee table, picking up the ones he'd found on her.

"I don't know. There seems to be no connection between these two people- he was a University student, he was a German, he survived Auschwitz. She was a Polish Jew, she escaped the Warsaw uprising- and that's all I've been able to definitively find out about her. Other than the Second War, they have nothing in common. Ziva nodded, before reaching out and taking the new files he held. She flipped through them silently for several minutes, searching for anything that could connect the two-

"Tim." Her voice was soft, breathless. He scooted closer to her, sliding an arm around her waist and pulling her close.

"What is it, Zia?" She glanced up at him, mouth slightly open and eyes wide. He furrowed a brow, until she turned the pages towards him. His own jaw fell open and his eyes widened, surprised.

There, in the middle of the files she held, was a photograph of three people, taken after the liberation. A man stood off to the side, in an American uniform, watching as two prisoners rushed to each other. Both wore the striped uniforms of Holocaust prisoners. For a brief moment, it was impossible to tell who was the woman and who was the man, for both had suffered harshly, and both had their heads shorn, as was typical of prisoners of the camps upon arrival in Auschwitz. However, it was soon clear that the person in the middle was a woman, for she wore a headscarf. Her arms were out, reaching for the man as she rushed towards him; he walked towards her, surprise on his face, as though he couldn't quite believe what he was seeing.

"It's a photograph-"

"Look at the writing beneath, Tim." Ziva whispered. He took it from her, reading Zane's now familiar scrawl:

_'A Reunion of Two Sides: German and Jewish Concentration Camp Survivors Reunite upon Camps' Liberation'_

Across from the title, Zane had scrawled in,

_Adrian and Zara?_


	25. Chapter 25

**Rifiuto: Non Miriena**

**A/N: Hey guys, it's Ev. Let me just finish editing this chapter and then... *looks up as bathroom door opens* Z?**

**~ I... I picked up a couple tests on the way home tonight, just... in case. *takes seat on the sofa* And she was wrong tonight, that other dancer. I don't look pregnant. **

**Oh Z, love, I... I'm sorry. *takes her hand and squeezes* We'll keep trying. Okay? We'll try until we succeed. **

**~ *shakes her head* We can't keep trying, Ev.**

**You... don't_ want_... to try anymore? **

**~ *bites her lip* No... we can't keep trying because you can't get me pregnant again once an egg has been fertilized.**

**Already? What do you mean alrea- *realizes* You-**

**~ *nods excitedly* **

**You're really... it was... positive? **

**~ *takes other hand from behind her back, and holds out both tests* They both are. We... *takes a deep breath and releases it* ... are having a baby.**

***pulls her into my arms and kisses her* I'm gonna be a daddy? **

**~ Yes, you are going to be a daddy. And I am going to be a mommy. Evan, I'm _pregnant_. *immediately bursts into tears and buries her face in my shirt***

_"Humanity owes this vow to those hundreds of thousands who, without any fault on their part, sometimes only because of their nationality or race, have been consigned to death or to a slow decline."_

_- Pope Pius XII (1876 - 1958), Leader of the Vatican during WWII_

Berlin, Germany

12:00 Noon

_Her eyes snapped open and she bolted upright, unsure of where she was or what had roused her from her sleep. She glanced around, trying to discern where exactly she was, not remembering the events of the last twenty-four hours or so. She reached out to touch the wall, thinking she was back in the Ghetto or in the alley she and Chava had hidden in, and she jumped as the wall beneath her fingers moved._

_But soon, she was staring at Adrian, and it all came flooding back. "Sorry, I didn't mean to scare you." She watched him, gaze flicking to the tray he picked up again after having moved the dresser. He set the tray on the bed, and then returned, holding out a hand. A moment passed before she accepted it and slowly stood, being careful to not wake her sister, who was still sound asleep._

_The feel of his hands on her waist as he helped her out of the wall sent a warmth through her body she had never felt before. It caused her cheeks to flush and the blood in her veins to boil, and she tightened her grip on his shoulders, but what startled her the most was the look in his eyes as he stood before her, still holding onto her waist, their bodies close together but still separated by a foot or so. "You okay? Steady?" She nodded, not trusting her voice. "Good." All too soon, he broke contact, going to the bed._

_"I, um..." He cleared his throat; clearly, she hadn't been the only one affected, if the way he was acting was any indication. He glanced quickly at her, before gesturing to the tray. "I brought... some toast and a little jam. And there is also coffee and some cereal... and I managed to make a couple sandwiches... I don't know what Jews eat and what they don't so... I... I tried." She gave him a small smile as she joined him on the edge of the bed._

_"Toda." He furrowed a brow._

_"Toeda?"_

_"To-da." She clarified, he raised an eyebrow, and after a moment, she whispered, "Vielen Dank." He relaxed, nodding in return. A moment passed in silence, before she picked up a cup of coffee and took a sip. He watched, before taking the other cup, leaving the glass of milk for Chava when she awoke. _

_"How did you sleep? It's not too... difficult in there?" She followed his gaze towards the wall, and she bit her lip. _

_"It is... hard. But we make the best in the worst of circumstances. I am just grateful Chava and I have a place to sleep. That we are... no longer in the ghetto... or trudging through the sewers, considering eating rats." He shivered at the thought of being so desperate that even rats looked appetizing, and she giggled softly. The sound reminded him of sleigh bells at Christmas, and he longed to hear that sound again. _

_"I am glad Cora and I could help." She nodded, glancing towards the door. _

_"And your Ima? Does she know? What did she say when she saw your tray?" He shook his head. _

_"She is in the living room, fixing one of Cora's dresses. She didn't notice." Zahrah nodded, and he could tell that something weighed heavily on her mind. "What is it?"_

_"What if she finds us? Chava and I? She will cast us out to be caught by the Gestapo." Tears came to her eyes. "Chava... Chava will not survive the camps. I would not survive, but I have a better chance than a child does." He reached over, taking her hand._

_"That won't happen, Zara. I won't let it. And Mother... Mother wouldn't let it. She would never turn away from anyone who needed help. She may resist at first, but soon she would do all she could to help. It is in her nature to help." She glance down at their hands, that feeling returning to her body; butterflies or bumblebees making quick work of her insides. She blushed, meeting his eyes, but soon a small whimper caught her attention and she set the cup down, standing and rushing to the wall._

_"Chava. Chava!" She shook the girl's shoulder, ordering her gently to wake from her nightmare. From the moment they entered the sewers that day, Chava had suffered from nightmares- bombs and gunshots rang in her dreams, and she often clung to Zahrah for dear life, crying out for their parents and older siblings. "Chava, wake up for me. Chava." Slowly, the girl's eyes opened, meeting her sister's and she swallowed._

_"Zahrah?" She nodded._

_"Ken, Chava. I am here, you are safe." With a soft cry, the child pushed herself to her feet and threw her arms around her sister's neck. Zahrah held her close, glancing over her shoulder at Adrian. _


	26. Chapter 26

**Rifiuto: Non Miriena**

**A/N: Hey guys, it's Ev. Z's back in the bathroom, vomiting again. Didn't want me in there with her. Told me to edit her chapter and post it... **

**I... I _still_ can't believe it. I... I'm going to be a daddy. **

_"It goes without saying that when survival is threatened, struggles erupt between peoples, and unfortunate wars between nations result."_

_- Hideki Tojo (1884 - 1948), General of Imperial Japanese Army _

_United States Holocaust Memorial Museum_

_Washington, D.C.,_

_8:00 A.M._

"Are you sure it's okay for us to be here, Tim?" Ziva asked, holding tight to his arm. After finding the photograph, Tim had placed a call to the United States Holocaust Museum, knowing that if anyone would have the answers to this riddle, it would be them. He glanced at her.

"Of course. I called them and informed them of the situation, and they said they'd have someone there to meet us at the entrance at eight." Ziva took a deep breath, tucking her hands into her pockets as they waited.

"You have the files?" He nodded.

"Yes, Zia, I have the files. I promise."

"And what does... Gibbs think of your little plan?" She asked, silently thrilled at how he used her name. When he didn't answer, her head snapped towards him. "He doesn't know?"

"I told him we were following a lead- that... _Evan_ was following a lead, and that _Ella_ was going to come with me because she was interested." She nodded, not fully believing that he would lie to his Team Leader, but not having any time to dwell on it, for a sharp rap behind them caused both to turn. The door opened and a young man poked his head out.

"Agent McGee?" Tim glanced at Ziva, and then nodded. "I'm Jason Michaels. Come on in."

Once they were inside and the doors locked behind them, the young tour guide led them into the cafe. Ziva let her gaze wander over the beautifully modern building-

"So, you said you had some questions about a photograph?" She nodded, her attention on the architecture lost thanks to the matter at hand. Without a word, Ziva took the small shoulder bag Tim had carried and set it on the table, pulling out the files. She laid each file out for the man to see, before handing him the picture.

"The man that was researching this was murdered." She explained. "He was a former IRA-assassin-turned-businessman. His dealings primarily... revolved around the selling of..." She swallowed, reaching up and taking hold of her necklace. "of artifacts from the _Shoah_." The young guide's eyes widened as he realized what she was playing with, and he nodded, keeping silent as he turned his gaze to the photograph.

"This is a photocopy?" Both nodded. Silently, he read the title- something seemed to click, and after a moment, he left the cafe, beckoning for them to follow. They quickly gathered up the files and hurried after him. "We don't allow the public into the permanent exhibit until ten, but because of the situation, we made an exception." He told them as they moved up the service elevator towards the middle floor- called the 'Final Solution'. As they exited the elevator and walked through the various exhibits, Ziva stopped at the exhibit explaining the Warsaw Uprising. Tim continued on until he felt her tug on his hand.

"Zia, you okay?" Both he and the guide returned to her, but her gaze was transfixed on photographs of the uprising- particularly of a teenage girl and a young boy holding their arms in surrender while Nazi soldiers held them at gunpoint. She had seen the image before, in history books, documentaries, but this... she caught sight of part of the brick wall, and the cobblestone street and the manhole cover that hid the sewers beneath Warsaw-

_"Miriam and I... going to fight... You need to go back! This is your only chance! Go!" _

The stench of the sewers rose up to tickle her nose-

"I am going to be sick." She covered her mouth, turning to Jason. She struggled to keep it down, but the stink was getting to her.

"Where is the bathroom?"

"Down on the... the first floor, near the cafe. Is she all right?" Tim nodded, promising they'd return, and he took her downstairs.

Not bothering about which bathroom, he tugged Ziva into the women's bathroom and pushed her towards one of the stalls. The door swung open and then banged closed as she dropped to her knees and grabbed the edges of the seat. The sound of her small body giving in to the bile that made its way up her throat was too much for him to bear, and he pulled the door open, slipping inside. After hanging the bag on the hook, he knelt down and gently pulled her hair back from her face.

"Oh, Ziva..." She flinched as he rubbed her back, but after a moment, relaxed into his touch. "I'm so sorry." She shook her head as she sat back, gulping in air as she slumped against the toilet paper dispenser.

"It is not your fault, Tim-"

"But if you're pregnant, it is my fault. It's as much my fault as it is yours. It takes two people to make a baby, Zia." She closed her eyes briefly, shaking her head.

"No. I cannot be pregnant. Pregnancy takes weeks, not-"

"It only takes once- it doesn't have to take days. If you're exhibiting the symptoms, then..." He shrugged. "Maybe we should pick up a test on the way back to the hotel." She met his gaze as he stood and quickly flushed the toilet.

"And how will everyone react if I am?" He held out a hand, helping her up.

"We will figure out that glitch when we come to it." She squeezed his hands as she steadied herself, giving him a small smile, and after a moment, she leaned towards him, but then pulled back.

"Sorry. Considering I just... vomited everywhere... I do not think you want to kiss me right now." Tim chuckled, pulling her close.

"You forget, you're my wife, and you're carrying our child. I'll kiss you if I feel like it, vomit and all." She laughed, accepting his kiss before allowing him to pull her from the stall so she could rinse her mouth out and wash her hands. Once done, they returned to the middle floor, finally finding Jason, who stood before an exhibit of photographs- a series, taken the day of liberation- including the one that had been in Zane's files.

Jason turned to the couple. "Is this the series you were looking for?"


	27. Chapter 27

**Rifiuto: Non Miriena**

**A/N: Sorry guys, just got back from our first appointment with our midwife... she wasn't too surprised that I didn't realize earlier that I was suffering from implantation symptoms- but now that really light period I had a week ago suddenly makes sense... she said most women don't recognize the early signs of pregnancy...**

**When I first took the test... and it came back positive, I... honestly, I couldn't believe it. So I took it again. I figure... if both come back positive then I must be pregnant, right? *chuckles* I still... I mean... I... there is this..._ tiny little human being_ that is... forming and growing inside me now... and it's... it's something Ev and I_ created... together_. It... it's a piece of each of us that's... that _we_ created. We created this little... person. I... I'm sorry guys, I think I'm still in shock... - Z**

**A/N: Hey guys. Here's the next chapter... I'm sorry, I usually have more to say, but Z's right. She's not the only one still in shock. But it... it's a good kind of shock. The best kind of shock. The _absolutely best_ kind. - Ev**

**Thanks to Reader for reviewing 23, 24, 25, and 26.**

_"I don't want to be cross, Love cannot be forced."_

_- Edith Frank (1900 - 1945), Mother of Anne Frank_

Berlin, Germany

Two Weeks Later

4:00 P.M.

_Adrian and Cora had been able to keep the girls hidden within the wall from their parents for two weeks. And then, when the truth was discovered, it wasn't because of Adrian or either of the girls, but because of Cora herself. _

_"Adrian, where is your sister?" He looked up from his reading, instantly screwing his features into something akin to confusion._

_"What do you mean, Mother?" Anneliese Fromm raised an eyebrow and set her sewing down. As the youngest child and only girl of Edith and Oskar Behr, she had been a beautiful, sprightly young thing, with long golden curls and striking green eyes her son had inherited. She was small, petite, slender, and yet, her personality was bigger than her stature. She'd grown up in Munich, attended University there as a nursing student, where she'd met Henrik Fromm, a young law student. They'd married after graduation, and then moved up to Berlin, where Henrik had started his own practice. Three years later, Adrian had been born, and Cora had followed four years after- looking every bit like her mother with the exception of her hair and eyes, which she'd gotten from her father._

_"I mean, when I went downstairs to make breakfast this morning, I passed by your room." She replied, getting up and going to the armchair her son had flung himself into. She gently pushed his legs off the arm and perched on the edge. He sat up, closing his book and ducking his head. "The door was ajar, and you were in lavatory, but Cora was in there, with her back to me, talking to the wall behind your dresser."_

_He swallowed thickly, schooling his features into something akin to calm, though inside his organs were knotting. "Cora has imaginary friends, Mother. She... they like to hide behind the dresser in my room."_

_Anneliese raised an eyebrow. "And is that why Cora has been sneaking food from the kitchen after dinner? And why you have too?" He nodded. "Adrian, we have precious little as it is because of the war; we cannot afford to waste food because of some childish game your sister is set on playing." She sighed. "Cora is too old for imaginary friends, she is sixteen. And you are twenty- you should not be encouraging her."_

_"I'm sorry, Mother." He whispered; but before Anneliese could respond, the subject in question came bounding down the stairs, headed for the kitchen. She rummaged around for something before finding what she wanted and heading back up the stairs._

_"Cora?" The girl stopped, head snapping to the side as her mother got off the chair and made her way towards her, Adrian following. "Where are you going with the bread and jam?"_

_"I..."_

_"You do not need the entire loaf, and I have little flour to make another." The teenager looked at her brother, biting her lip. Adrian took a deep breath, laying a hand on his mother's arm._

_"I can dash out and go buy some more flour-"_

_"But it is for Zara and Eva." Anneliese's head snapped from her son to her daughter, brows rising._

_"Zara and Eva?" Cora nodded._

_"They are the two girls living in the wall of Brother's room-" Adrian rushed past their mother, snapping a hand over his sister's mouth._

_"They're Cora's imaginary friends, Mother. They live behind the dresser, but Cora thinks they live in the walls of my room. She calls them the 'wall people', don't you, Cora?" He ground out, tilting his head to look down into his sister's eyes. The girl nodded. Their mother narrowed her eyes before she shook her head and quickly took the loaf and jam from her daughter._

_"Well since they are imaginary, you don't need an entire loaf of bread, Corinna. A couple slices will do, since you and Adrian will be eating them anyway." She turned, heading back into the kitchen to cut a couple pieces off, when the girl pulled away from her brother._

_"But they need that, Mother! Zara and her sister have been hiding in the sewers and eating rats to escape the Gestapo! They left everything behind when the soldiers came to liquidate the ghetto! Both their parents died, and so did their older brother and sister! They have no one else to help them! If we don't, they will be out on the street and taken to the camps and they'll die, simply because they are Jews!"_

_Anneliese stopped, the jam jar fell from her hand, shattering on the kitchen floor. Cora smacked her hands over her mouth, realizing what she'd said, and then, without another word, turned and dashed upstairs as their mother turned, the bread still in her grasp. Adrian let out a growl of annoyance, hot on his sister's tail._

_"Gott verdammt, Cora!" Anneliese quickly followed, the bread having since fallen to the floor of the foyer as she made her way upstairs, unaware that, as she was making her way up the stairs and down the hall to her son's room, her children were urging both sisters back into the wall and pushing the dresser back into place._

_The door opened and she entered; Cora sat on the bed, hands over her mouth as she rocked back and forth, tears in her eyes, and Adrian had ducked beneath the dresser; he was talking softly to someone. "What is going on here? What are you two hid-" She stopped as her son turned. "-ing?" Her gaze landed on the two girls hiding within the hole of the wall; one appeared no older than Adrian, the other, a mere child. They clutched tight to each other, pushing themselves back in the shadows, eyes fearful._

_She turned to her own children, drinking each in, before turning back to the girls. Tears clogged her throat, and her voice was strained as she breathed, _

_"Oh Adrian, what have you done?" _


	28. Chapter 28

**Rifiuto: Non Miriena**

**A/N: Hey guys, here's the next chapter. I... I still can't believe there's this tiny little human being that's now growing inside me... and honestly, I'm half afraid that... that I'll go to sleep and wake up tomorrow morning to find that this is only a dream...**

_"Looking at the past must only be a means of understanding more clearly what and who they are so that they can more wisely build the future."_

_- Paulo Freire (1921 - 1997), Brazilian Philosopher_

_United States Holocaust Memorial Museum_

_Washington, D.C.,_

_Middle Floor_

_8:30 A.M._

They stepped up towards the photographs, studying them silently. After a moment, Tim took the photocopy back from Jason, holding it up as he reached the original hanging upon the wall. In the original he could see their faces clearer, but after a moment, he moved to look at the beginning of the series. It was a collection of images, taken as they were happening, for sometimes arms or legs or heads were blurry- of a couple reuniting at the liberation after the end of the war. Tim studied each one silently, searching for any clues as to who the people were- and he got his answer in the last photographs in the series.

"Zia, look at this." She joined him, slipping her hand into his as she joined him at the final photographs.

Much like the famous image of the sailor kissing the nurse in the center of Times Square at the end of the war, so too was this first photograph filled with a passion neither of its occupants could deny.

To the right of the couple, was a truck with American liberators, whom were in the process of handing out food to the survivors, though each gaze returned to the two prisoners reuniting. And there, within the center of the photograph, was the couple- one German, the other Jew- locked in a passionate embrace that would have made Tim blush as a teenager. The young man had his arm around her waist, holding her close; with his other hand, he'd reached up and tugged the scarf from her head. Her short hair resembled other photographs of Holocaust survivors. She had reached up, caressing his face as she leaned into the kiss. Both were thin, but that was to be expected given the situation.

"So... this details... a reunion?" Ziva asked, turning to the guide, who nodded.

"Yeah. It's the reuniting of two survivors of the Final Solution. But what historians and Holocaust scholars alike have found so puzzling, is the fact that the man in the photograph is clearly a German, and the woman is-"

"A Jew." Ziva finished, reaching up to tangle her fingers in the chain of her necklace.

"It wasn't uncommon for Germans to end up in the camps. If they were disabled in any way, they often were sent to the camps for extermination. However, the more likely scenario is that Germans who were taken to the camps were sent there because they were caught helping Jews. Anyone who helped a Jew during the Holocaust was seen as trying to help bring down the Reich, and therefore in need of destruction. Gentiles saving Jews was not uncommon- history knows those Jews that survived as hidden children. And the gentiles are-"

"Righteous Among the Nations." Ziva whispered, meeting Tim's gaze. He knew of the liberation because his great-uncle had been one of the soldiers to liberate the Auschwitz, and had only spoke of his experiences and the horrors he'd witnessed before he died. She took a deep breath, squeezing his hand as she reached up to wipe away tears. "So... he probably was hiding Jews and..." She stopped, swallowing. "But how does this connect to Zara Hirsch and Adrian Fromm?"

"Did you say Fromm?" The pair turned to Jason, nodding. A moment passed before the man beckoned them to follow him. He led the couple off of the floor, into the archives of the museum. Eventually, he stopped, pulling on a pair of latex gloves and unlocking a case. "Henrik Fromm... was a German lawyer in Berlin. He married Anneliese Behr in Munich, in nineteen-nineteen after graduation; he was twenty-two, she was twenty. They then moved to Berlin in nineteen-twenty and he started his own law practice. Three years after in nineteen-twenty-three, they had a son-"

"Adrian." Jason turned to the couple.

"Yes. Anneliese was twenty-four when her son was born. Their daughter Corinna was born four years later, in nineteen-twenty-seven. It is well known now Henrik printed leaflets and distributed them with his colleagues, protesting Hitler's regime." They watched as he pulled an old photo album out of some protective covering and flipped through it, showing them the wedding portrait of the couple, and then family photographs. "However, sometime in early nineteen-forty-four, the Gestapo came to the family's home. It was reported that they were hiding Jews." He continued through the pages, looking for something.

"What happened to them?" Jason shrugged.

"All history will tell us is that both Henrik and Anneliese died in nineteen-forty-five; he was forty-eight, she was forty-six. It does not say how or where."

"And their children?" Ziva asked, one hand reaching down to subconsciously caress her belly. "What happened to them?"

Jason met her gaze. "No one knows. They seemed to disappear off the face of the earth. There was talk, for a while that they had been captured by the Gestapo- because Adrian had been a member of the White Rose at Munich University- and that he was executed for crimes against Germany, and that Corinna was sent to the camps for helping her brother distribute leaflets in Berlin, but no one knows for sure. Ah, here it is." He dropped the other pages and set the album before the couple.

Ziva gasped, covering her mouth with her hand; she caught sight of Tim's face out of the corner of her eye; he looked just as shocked as she.

It was a family portrait; taken in a living room in downtown Berlin. The parents sat together on a plush armchair, holding hands, while their daughter sat on the floor at their feet and their son was perched on the arm of the chair; both children looked to be about middle school or even elementary school age. As was normal in old photographs, none of them were smiling. However, it was the second photograph, on the opposite page, that brought shock to the young couple.

"The first is their family portrait, taken about nineteen-thirty-three; the second photograph was taken in forty-one, two years before Adrian returned from Munich permanently."

The second photograph was of the two siblings- still a formal portrait, but both appeared much more relaxed; clearly, it was not from the same session as the other one, for both were older. They sat on the stairs of their home, the girl- about twelve or so- sitting one step above her brother- who sat on the floor, her arms around his shoulders, and her cheek against his. She wore a short sleeved dress, her long dark hair in braids. The young man looked to be about seventeen, and was sitting partially cross-legged, his arms around the standing leg.

"From what we can figure, both Fromm siblings disappeared some time in late forty-four or early forty-five."

Ziva squeezed Tim's hand, meeting his gaze. "Tim."

He glanced at her, before turning back to the photograph. Her voice shook as she spoke exactly what he was thinking. "They... they _look_ like you and Sarah."


	29. Chapter 29

**Rifiuto: Non Miriena**

**A/N: Hey guys, here's 29. Now if you excuse me, Z wants me to pick something up for her. I'm just wondering why the hell it has to be_ pickles_. Yuck. **

_"Anyone who remains silent in the face of murder is an accomplice to murder. Anyone who does not condemn approves."_

_- Zofia Kossak-Szczucka (1889 - 1968), Polish Activist, Writer, and Co-founder of the Polish Resistance group Zegota _

Berlin, Germany

5:00 P.M.

_Zahrah tightened her hold upon Chava. This was it; they'd been caught and were going to spend the remainder of their short lives struggling to survive in the death camps. She glanced at Adrian, not hearing his mother's words, only focusing on her sister, and how best to keep her safe once they reached Auschwitz. The soft clearing of a throat caused her to look up; Adrian stood before her, holding out a hand. After a moment, she gently untangled Chava's arms from her body and handed her sister over. Once the girl was in the room, he reached for her waist, helping her out of the hole. Steadying her, he rested his forehead to hers, releasing a soft breath._

_"Es tut mir leid, Zara." The soft apology did nothing to dry the tears that inadvertently fell from her eyes, though it did touch her heart, for she knew how careful he had been, how he'd struggled to look out for them, and taken every precaution to ensure their safety within the house and away from his parents, and yet-_

_"What... who..." She looked around quickly, before returning her gaze to his._

_"My little sister could not keep her mouth shut." Adrian ground out softly. Zahrah nodded, ducking her head he pulled away, but her head immediately snapped up when his mother spoke._

_"I don't understand, Adrian. You and Corinna have been... hiding two Jewish girls... how long has this been going on?" She watched as Adrian stepped in front of her, blocking her from his mother._

_"Since I returned from University." He swallowed. "I... I went to the courthouse to make copies of Christophe's last pamphlet, and as I was leaving... I found them, hiding in the alley behind the courthouse. I brought them home that night- Cora caught us, and agreed to keep them secret." He watched his mother as she connected the dots, sighing._

_"And so you think, Adrian, that hiding two Jewish girls in the wall of your room was the better option? That keeping them a secret from your father and I was better than telling us?"_

_"Because we knew you would send them out on the street, Mother! They would die if we didn't do anything to help!" Cora cried, finally finding her voice._

_But Zahrah, sensing the tension within the room, reached back into the hole and grabbed the knapsacks she and Chava had brought with them when they fled the ghetto. She grabbed her sister's hand, tugging the child to her feet, turning to Adrian. Tears came to her eyes as she met his gaze; this young man... this beautiful young man who had seen something wrong and then tried to help in even the smallest, simplest of ways- giving her and Chava a place to sleep and what food he and his sister could sneak from their family's kitchen- for two weeks, was forever in her debt._

_It was a debt she would never be able to repay._

_She went to him, studying his features silently, before reaching up and taking his face in her hands. She rested her forehead to his, stroking his cheeks with her thumbs. "Toda." The word fled from her lips with heartache trailing behind, for she had begun to look on him as more than just her protector in these last two weeks-_

_"Where are you going?" She shook her head; she and Chava could not stay if their very presence was going to be the cause for his family tearing apart. A moment passed, before he realized, shaking his head._

_"No." But all she did was cradle his head in her hands and press as soft kiss to his cheek. _

_Then she pulled away, going to Cora, who had pulled Chava onto the bed with her, and pressed a kiss to her hair, whispering her thanks in the girl's hair. She then took Chava from the bed, grasping her hand. With one last glance back at the siblings, she tugged her sister out of the room and down the stairs towards the doors. If she was lucky, this small kindness would keep her and Chava surviving in the camps. She ignored Cora's cries, or the footsteps following them down the stairs- _

_But as she reached for the doorknob, it opened, and a man stepped inside, shaking an umbrella free of raindrops. "Annelie-" He stopped, at the sight of two young Jews in his foyer, out of the corner of his eye, the man could see his children rushing down the stairs, his wife following behind. _

_"Henrik, you're home early-" Zahrah watched him force his gaze from her and Chava to his wife. _

_"Because of the storm. We cannot conduct courts without working power. It is out all down that end of Berlin. And... why are there two Jewish-" He turned to the girls, but Zahrah, seeing this as their chance, dashed out the door and down the few steps. Cora's scream echoed through the foyer and out into the street where it died thanks to the pounding of the rain._

_"Zahrah, why did we have to leave? I liked them. They were nice." She didn't turn her gaze to her sister, just focused ahead as she spoke; she could hear what she thought were footsteps following, but with the pounding of the rain around them, couldn't be sure, and couldn't identify if they were the heavy footfalls of the Gestapo come after them or someone else. "Zahrah, I do not understand-"_

_"It is because we are Jewish, Chava." She choked out, tears sliding down her cheeks. "They do not want Jews contaminating their children."_

_"But they are nice, Zahrah. I like them. They kept us safe-" _

_"It does not matter, Chava!" She cried, wheeling on the child. "Any little kindness a Gentile shows us is only a false truth for how they truly feel! Look at the ghetto! We thought it was for our protection, but it was just so they could deport us to camps easier!" She choked on a sob, thinking back on her brother- Levi had never trusted the Gentiles; he had refused to believe their lies, and he had been right. Instead of leaving them be, they had near destroyed all within the ghetto._

_"Levi was right." She choked out, meeting Chava's eyes as she knelt down to her sister's eye level. "Gentiles can never be trusted."_

_"That's not true!" Her head snapped up; Adrian stood before her, dripping wet and out of breath; clearly, he had been the one following them. She stood, stepping in front of her sister. "You can trust my family."_

_"What are you doing? Why are you following us?" He stepped closer, but she backed up, pushing Chava with her._

_"I'm here to take you back home." She shook her head, turning from him to take Chava's hand._

_"We have no home. Just each other." But as they started to leave, he grabbed her hand; she turned. _

_"Zara, no! Zara, please! It's not safe out here! You'll be caught and taken to the camps if not killed where you stand!" _

_"What does it matter to you? Why do we matter to you? You have a family! You have a home! No one has destroyed all you know and taken all you love simply because of who you are! You have never known hunger and disease..." She shook her head, fresh tears in her eyes._ _"You have never known hate... because you are a German. Because you are not like Chava, not like me. You know only love. You will never know hate."_

_But as she turned, tightening her grip on her sister's hand, he pulled her towards him, taking her chin and planting his mouth on hers. _


	30. Chapter 30

**Rifiuto: Non Miriena**

**A/N: Hey guys, it's Z. Ev's currently out getting me pickles. When I asked if it would be an inconvenience for him, he just shook his head, kissed me, leaned down, kissed my belly and then left. He should be back soon. I'm starting to wonder if _this_ is why I haven't stopped eating. For almost the last... four weeks, I've rarely stopped eating. It's like I can't. **

_"I was profoundly ashamed, I was very much upset."_

_- Otto Hahn (1879 - 1968), German Chemist _

_United States Holocaust Memorial Museum_

_Archives_

_9:00 A.M._

Without a word, Tim pulled his cell from his pocket and pulled up his photo gallery. "Tim? What are you doing?" He shook his head, searching for one photograph in his album in particular. After a moment, he set the phone down on the table beside the photograph; Ziva leaned close to see the enlarged image.

It was one of Tim and Sarah, taken over the Memorial Day weekend before Ziva had even arrived in America- it had been the photograph he'd shown her when he'd talked about his sister. They were in almost exactly the same pose, Sarah's arms around his shoulders, her head resting on his shoulder. Both were smiling softly at the camera.

She turned her gaze to the photograph in the album- with the exception of the black and white, the area, and the time period, the two images were exactly alike. She felt as though she were looking at the two halves of a mirror. "Ex... exactly the same. You could be his twin, Tim. Or he could be yours." The agent swallowed, picking up his phone and slipping it back into his pocket.

He bit his lip, never taking his gaze off the photograph of the two siblings. Ziva was right, Adrian did look almost exactly like him. And his sister... Corinna, if he remembered correctly... seemed to be an exact carbon copy of Sarah, right down to the hair color and the shape of her face. It was frightening, thinking that this young man- this... exact carbon copy of him- could have disappeared into the annals of history without anyone knowing or caring about what happened to him.

_"If I do not succeed, at least I will know that I tried. That I tried to do some good among this evil."_

He glanced at Ziva, tearing his gaze quickly from the photographs, and squeezed her hand, before he pulled away and opened the bag holding their researched files. "We were... also wondering about a young woman named Zara Hirsch. She was a Jew who survived the Warsaw uprising and the Holocaust itself. Or, well, we think she survived the Holocaust. We haven't been able to find much on her." He held out the article he'd found; upon seeing it, Jason quickly set to work looking up the young woman in the photograph. He pulled out a file, and checked something, before beckoning for them to follow.

They came upon the Wall of Portraits, and after several minutes of searching, Jason led them to a photograph. It was of a family, taken in the late nineteen-thirties. The parents sat in the middle, their oldest son and daughter on either side of them, and sitting on the floor, huddled together like puppies, were two younger daughters, all of them dressed in nice, clean, simple clothing. Jason turned to them.

"This is the only photograph where we've been able to identify the people in it." He held out the page from the file with a small photocopy of the image; each name written beneath, corresponding to the letter beside the face. Tim drank in each name silently, while Ziva was only vaguely listening. "It's the Hirsch family. They were a fairly well-off Jewish family living in Warsaw during the war- when Hitler designated all Jews moved to the Warsaw Ghetto, they went as well-"

"They were Polish Jews?" The two men turned to Ziva, who had wrenched her gaze from the thousands of other portraits hanging upon the wall.

"Yes. One of the more well-off families in Warsaw at the time. Ira Hirsch was a d-"

"Doctor?" Ziva finished as Jason nodded, surprised. She shrugged. "Jews are either doctors, dentists, lawyers or bankers. The only difficulty was choosing one of the four." She replied. Tim glanced at her, before reaching out and taking her hand.

"It says they had four children." Tim spoke up, studying the file. Jason nodded, pointing to each face in the photograph on the wall.

"They originally had five, but their youngest daughter, Malka, died when she was two- from the typhus outbreak in the Warsaw ghetto. This was taken about... thirty-nine or so, before Malka was born." Ziva swallowed. "Levi and Miriam were the two oldest. It's recorded that both were part of the Warsaw resistance that was responsible for the uprising." She stepped closer to the portrait, studying their faces. She felt as though she recognized them- or, at least the young man.

_"Jews have been escaping through the sewers since they built the wall... There are people down waiting to take you away from the ghetto."_

She pointed to the younger man, turning to Tim. "Levi."

"What'd you say, Zia?" He asked, joining her.

"Levi. He... he got Zahrah and Chava out of the ghetto through the sewers." Jason shook his head.

"No. Levi and Miriam fought in the uprising. They were captured and executed on the spot. As were many others who hadn't even taken part in the uprising- Ira and Hannah included. There is no way the two younger girls could have gotten to the sewers in all the chaos."

"Unless they were already there." Ziva whispered, her gaze moving to the two younger children, sitting on the floor at their parents feet. "Which one is Zahrah?"

"Her." Jason said as he and Tim stepped up beside her. She let her gaze settle on the young woman- a teenager really- sitting on the floor, holding her little sister in her lap. "That's Zahrah. She was eighteen, and Chava ten, when they disappeared from the ghetto. We can't find much on them."

"Well, what do we know about them?" Tim asked, turning to Jason, who sighed.

"Zahrah was born in nineteen-twenty-five, in Warsaw. She was second-born daughter. The few statements history has been able to collect from Polish friends that knew her said that she hoped to train as a midwife someday." He turned to the child in her lap. "Chava was born in thirty-three, until Malka was born in forty-one, she was the youngest."

"They were beautiful." Ziva whispered, studying the two sisters. A moment passed, before she asked, "What happened to them?"

Jason shrugged. "That's the thing. No one knows. All we are certain of is that both sisters somehow managed to escape the uprising, but how and what happened afterwards is unclear." He nodded to the photograph. "They are like Adrian and Corinna Fromm- they've been wiped from the pages of history."

"She looks like you, Zia." Tim whispered, taking her hand. She cocked her head. "Ziva, what are you thinking?" Tim asked, eyes narrowing. Though they'd only been on this op for a few days, he'd already begun to pick up little things about her- like how she started to talk fast whenever she got excited about finding something involving the case, or the contemplating look she now wore when there was a piece of the puzzle that didn't fit right.

"They got out." He cocked his head, staring at her.

"I'm sorry?" She turned to him, squeezing his hand, excited.

"Zahrah and Chava. They got out of the ghetto through the sewers, and then..._ somehow... someway_... they crossed paths with Adrian and Corinna Fromm."


	31. Chapter 31

**Rifiuto: Non Miriena**

**A/N: My midwife said that I'm... well, she thinks that my pills may have failed (because apparently they aren't always reliable), and so Ev and I conceived eight weeks ago instead of four... it's still exciting, that we created this tiny human being, no matter how far along I am. Oh, and Ev will be right back. He wanted me to post this.  
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**A/N: I've decided that further on in the story, there will be some quotes that are from people I have already used- as we go along, the quotes will... symbolize the... desperation of the situation, I guess you could say.- Z**

**Thanks to Reader for reviewing 27, 28, 29 and 30.**

_"Do what is right because it is right; and leave it alone."_

_- Chiune Sugihara (1900 - 1986), Japanese Vice Consul who wrote travel visas that saved over 6,000 Jews_

Berlin, Germany

5:30 P.M.

_She tasted like rainwater. Like coffee and bread. And tears. Heartache and fear danced along his tongue as he drank her in, tugging her closer to him until he could slip an arm around her waist and hold her against him. She fought him at first, but soon, the feel of his body against hers, the warmth of him despite the cold won out, and she tangled her fingers in the wet material of his shirt, for he'd run after her without a coat. He deepened the kiss, tightening his grasp on her, but soon, a small voice forced him to pull away._

_"Zahrah?"_

_He glanced at her; she'd yet to open her eyes, most likely too shocked to react, and he leaned around her, eyes landing on Eva. The child had hidden within her sister's skirts, and was watching him with cautious eyes. After a moment, however, Zara opened her eyes and turned, kneeling to her sister's level. _

_"Chava." She brushed rainwater out of her sister's eyes, and Adrian swallowed. He'd come out here with a purpose- to bring them back to the house, explain the situation to his parents, and hope they wouldn't cast the girls out into the street. But since he'd now gone and ruined it- _

_He swallowed. "You're coming home, with me. My... my parents want to meet you." Both sisters turned to meet his gaze. _

_"You mean they want to know the names of the two girls they will turn over to the Gestapo before collect their payment." Zara replied; she had heard stories of Gentiles and even other Jews handing over their neighbors, acquaintances, and even complete strangers to the Gestapo for the hefty reward promised. He shook his head._

_"No. My father is a lawyer. We don't need money."_

_"So your parents would turn us in for... sport?" She whispered. Again he shook his head, going to her and kneeling down._

_"No. We would never do that. They want to meet you so they can help." He watched her gaze narrow._

_"Why should we trust you?" He stood, glancing over his shoulder, mentally counting the steps it would take to return to home and how much time they had before curfew._

_"Because you trusted me before." He replied, turning back to them. "And until Cora opened her mouth, our parents didn't even know you were there. Please, Zara." He watched her glance at her sister, as though she were weighing her options, before she stood. He knew that she was thinking of Chava and how best to care for her because she was her last surviving relative, that she was weighing the best options for them, and realizing that they had a better chance of surviving with his family than they did by themselves on the streets. _

_"Very well. We will return, but you must-"_

_"I promise. You're safe with my family." She swallowed, then nodded. Adrian relaxed, and after a moment, reached down and scooped Chava into his arms. The child let out a small yip and then latched her arms around his neck when she realized his wasn't going to hurt her. Slowly, silently, Zahrah followed them back, keeping her distance from him, until he turned, catching her hand and tugging her to his side. His hand slid into hers, and he squeezed her fingers gently. She glanced down at their hands, briefly considered pulling away, and then thought better of it. His hand was warm, his fingers soft, comforting._

_When they finally returned to the house, they found both his mother and sister waiting with blankets for the girls. As the door shut behind them, Adrian set Chava back on her feet- immediately, Cora sprang from the sofa and rushed to the child; she'd taken a particular liking to the little girl, claiming Chava as her own. She dropped onto her knees in front of Chava, pulling the sweater from the child's shoulders and wrapping the blanket around her. Chava gave her a big smile before she glanced at her sister._

_Zahrah had moved back from the others, keeping close to the door, watching them with wide, frightened eyes. Her dark eyes darted back and forth gauging the threat posed. As he locked the door, Adrian watched as his mother made her way towards Zara. The older girl backed up, pressing herself against the hardwood; he sighed. He didn't blame her, after all she'd gone through in the last several weeks- as well as the years before now- he could understand why she was frightened. Having been shoved into a ghetto with hundreds of others like cattle, forced to escape through the dank, rotting sewers filled with disease-ridden rats, then ending up in Berlin, a city of thousands, where it was unclear whom was friend and whom was foe, unsure of whom to trust... only to find shelter and then have it taken away-_

_No, he didn't blame her for being distrustful at all._

_He glanced at his mother, reaching out and taking the blanket from her; she nodded before disappearing into the kitchen to fix something hot to drink, as he unfolded the woolen blanket and went to her. Slowly, Zara stepped away from the wall, allowing him to wrap it around her shoulders. "There." He sighed, meeting her gaze. She lowered her head, a blush creeping over her cheeks. Suddenly, she wasn't sure how to act around him. He'd kissed her, after all. _

_His father cleared his throat. "Adrian, Cora, why don't you take our guests into the living room? Your mother and I will be right in." Both children nodded before leading the girls across the foyer and into the warmth of the room to to the right._


	32. Chapter 32

**Rifiuto: Non Miriena**

**A/N: I still can't believe that's our baby. **

**~ *rolls eyes as he studies sonogram* Of course it's our baby, Ev. It may not look like a baby right now, but it's most definitely ours. *moves laptop to settle in his lap* **

**How are you feeling, Z? **

**~ *shrugs* Tired. Hungry. Sick to my stomach. Feel like I'm gonna throw up.**

**So... pregnant? *grins***

**~ *pretends to think* Yes, Evan. Pregnant. *grins and then leans down and kisses him* Thank you for giving me this, Ev.**

**Thank you. I love you, Z.**

***nuzzles into his neck* We love you, too.**

_"My loyalty to my party ends where my loyalty to the country begins."_

_- Manuel L. Quezon (1878 - 1944) First Filipino President of the Commonwealth of the __Philippines_

_United States Holocaust Memorial Museum_

_Museum Cafe_

_9:15 A.M._

"So... you think that Zahrah and Chava somehow managed to get out of the the Warsaw ghetto before the uprising, make it to Berlin, and then ran into Adrian and Corinna Fromm before being wiped from history forever?"

Ziva nodded, tightening her grip on the mug. She forced herself to take small sips of her mocha so that her stomach didn't revolt and send her back to the bathroom and the nearest stall behind the closed door. They sat in the museum cafe, discussing what they'd learned of the pair, and trying to find the connection between them.

She looked around; the museum had yet to open, they had little under forty-five minutes until the door opened and the public entered for tours. "Here are the files you asked for, Agent McGee." Both turned as Jason returned to their table; they'd asked for copies of what they'd been shown in the archives- Jason had been able to dig up old photocopies of the photographs from the Fromm family album taken back when the museum first received the artifacts, and so gave the two federal officers those.

"Thank you, Jason." He glanced at Ziva.

"We have a couple more questions." She pulled out the sheet listing the things Evan Zane had been searching for when he and his wife were killed, holding it out to the guide. "Have you ever heard of any of those items, or come across them in the archives? And... is there a conference room we could use for the next couple of hours?"

By the time nine-thirty rolled around, Tim and Ziva had laid out all the files they'd gathered and received on the long table in the conference room at the back of the first floor of the museum. They had ordered lunch since they'd be there fore a while, sifting through the evidence, and had since laid everything out chronologically- adding in what files Jason had managed to give them. Ziva watched from her perch in one of the chairs; she'd slouched into it, trying to relax, propping her head on one hand while the other traced slow circles over her belly, her mind elsewhere. Her gaze wandered to the photocopied photographs of Zahrah's family and the Fromm siblings.

Had she never known Tim, the resemblance between him and Adrian Fromm would have just caused her a passing glance, but since she knew him, since she'd been on this op with him, shared a bed with him-

_Created a _baby_ with him- _

She swallowed slowly, grabbing her cup and taking a sip of her drink as she mentally counted back the weeks since her last period. They were all regular- well, as regular as they could be when she was on birth control. Even on birth control her period managed to be off. She sighed. She was supposed to have started the day after they started this op, and she hadn't. It had been... three days or so since, and still no period.

That meant she was either exceedingly irregular or her birth control had failed and she'd gotten pregnant. She hoped to God it was the former. If it turned out to be the latter, her career in Mossad was over and her life was over. No, she reasoned, not over. If her father found out she was pregnant- and by an American, no less- he'd disown her.

No, at least disowning would mean she'd still be living.

If her father found out, he'd _kill_ her.

_"You are the sharp end of the spear, Ziva. You are the one that handles the jobs my other agents turn from. You belong to me, to Mossad, to Israel! Never forget that! You are mine!"_

She shook her head, choking on a sob as she set her cup down and pulled her legs to her chest. This wasn't fair, what her father had demanded of her; first, he had kept her from going after Ari, even though_ she_ was his control officer- his true control officer, unlike Liat- who'd only gone at her father's request. Then, when he returned in a wooden coffin, she'd been forced to retrieve the body from the airport- though her father knew how close she and Ari had once been. She'd then turned her rage on Liat, managing to beat the woman to a bloody pulp before being ripped off her by Malachai- her one chance to put a bullet in the woman's skull gone as she was shuffled off to the U.K. on mission.

And now, she was in America, working for NCIS as a liaison, under Director Shepard's orders. She had never understood why her father had allowed her to go...

She sniffled, feeling tears slide down her cheeks, and she kicked herself internally for being so weak.

_It's because you are pregnant. Your hormones are crazy-_

She kicked the bottom of the chair in agitation, catching Tim's attention. He moved from his study of the documents to her chair, kneeling down before her and laying a hand on her knee. "Hey, Zia, are you all right? What's wrong?"

Her gaze flicked to his, and after a moment, she sat up, pulling away as he reached up to wipe at her tears. Gently, she pushed him back, pressing her hands on the arms of the chair to push herself up with a disgusted,

"I am going to be sick."

Ziva dashed towards the door, pushing it open as he stood. "Do you want me to come with you?"

She stopped momentarily, his words penetrating her head. "No! I am fine! Th... thank you."

As she slipped into the bathroom, and towards the nearest empty stall, she thought back on her father's words. This time, she didn't resist as the vomiting took hold, she simply grasped the edges of the seat, listening to the pounding of her heart in her ears-

That was quickly accompanied by a second heartbeat- faint, but gaining in strength with each passing hour.

Finally, she sat back against the toilet paper dispenser, flushed quickly, and closed her eyes. She couldn't do it; she just couldn't. After a moment, she pulled her knees to her chest and buried her face in her arms,_ praying_ that when she took the test that evening, it would return negative.


	33. Chapter 33

**Rifiuto: Non Miriena**

**A/N: *leans down and brushes kiss to her belly* How're you doing, Bug?**

**~ Bug? _Seriously_, Ev? **

***shrugs* We don't even know what we're having yet, so we can't give this little one a name. *gently rubs her belly* **

**~ Our baby is not a _bug_, Evan. **

**It's not a _baby_ either, Z. It won't be until it's born. It's a fetus, and I'm sorry, but I am _not_ calling it 'fetus' for the rest of your pregnancy. **

**~ So you opt to call it 'Bug' instead? That's wonderful. **

**Go ahead, be sarcastic. You know I'm right. **

**~ I know you got me pregnant. Whether you're right or not... that's to be debated. **

***chuckles and brushes another kiss to her belly* Don't worry about Mama, Bug. She's just exhausted and cranky because you've been giving her a hard time since you started developing. **

**~ *reaches down and tangles fingers in his hair*... I guess I could get used to calling it 'Bug' until we think of a name... _Bug_...*considers it*... nope. Never gonna happen. **

_"Books and ideas are the most effective weapons against intolerance and ignorance."_

_- Lyndon B. Johnson (1908 - 1973), 36th United States President _

Berlin, Germany

6:00 P.M.

A_drian gently pushed Zahrah onto the sofa before checking the fire. Cora and Chava sat together on the floor in front of it, talking softly, as though they'd known each other their whole lives and only a few short weeks. He couldn't help the smile at the sight of his sister so happy, but the smile soon faded when he turned his gaze back to Zahrah. From where he stood, she looked so small; a child lost and alone in a forest with no way back to civilization. He sighed, leaving the fireside and returning to the sofa, taking a seat beside her. She jumped, letting out a soft gasp before she turned and met his gaze. He gave her a tiny smile._

_"Are you okay?" She released a breath, swallowing thickly as her head lowered._

_"Why did you bring us back? Your parents do not want us here-" He reached up, taking her face in his hands._

_"No, no, Zara, that's not true. My parents want to help you. Don't you see that?" Her head snapped up, and she searched his gaze. _

_"See? What I see?" She sprang to her feet, turning on him, the blanket falling to the floor at her feet. "I see a family of Gentiles who have never known what it is like to go hungry! I see a family who has never been confined to an area because of bricks and clay! I see a family who has never had to endure the taunts and jeers because of a simple star! You have never worn a star! You have never had everything you owned taken from you!"_

_She choked on her next words, thoughts of her own siblings, her parents- now lying dead within unmarked graves because they chose to fight the Nazis oppression, or because they got caught in the very same crossfire. "I see..." Her voice broke, and she shook her head. "I see a family... a whole family... who will never be ripped apart because you are Gentiles..." She broke down then, her knees giving out; Adrian stood, rushing to her, his arms going around her waist as the weight of her sorrow capsized her small shoulders._

_He held her close, wrapping his arms tight around her waist and allowing her to cry. Her sobs broke his heart, and he looked up as his parents rushed back into the room, cups of coffee and hot chocolate in their hands. "What happened?" He turned to his father, who set the cups he held down and rushed to his son. Adrian shook his head._

_"Is she all right?" His mother asked, rushing to Chava and Cora, and handing them the mugs she'd brought before making her way towards her oldest son. He opened his mouth, but didn't know where to begin._

_"Ima and Abba died." All three turned to the two girls. Chava ran her finger along the rim of the cup, tears in her eyes. "We... lived in the ghetto... Levi and Miriam got Zahrah and I out... Abba and Ima were supposed to come too... but they never came."_

_Adrian watched his father make his way towards the younger girls. "How did you get out of the ghetto?" Chava sniffled, looking up at him._

_"Levi and Miriam put us in the sewers. Other people were there. Asher took us out of the ghetto. We were in the sewers for a long time." Slowly, Henrik knelt down to Chava's eye level. The child scooted back, bumping to Cora, who took her hand and squeezed gently._

_"What ghetto did you live in? Can you tell me? Please?" The child glanced at Cora and then Adrian before turning back to their father._

_"W... Warsaw."_

_The soft gasp that escaped their mother's throat caused Adrian to turn; Anneliese stood with her hands over her mouth, eyes wide in horror. They had read of the horrors of the ghettos in the papers- a white-washed version, but still. And yet, the horrors of the massacre at Warsaw rivaled only the massacre committed at Jedwabne- when Polish citizens of the town turned on its Jewish community, killing all but seven. "You survived the Warsaw uprising?"_

_Chava turned to his mother, nodding through her tears. Adrian caught the look in his mother's eye, and after a moment, his father stood, going to his wife. He tugged her gently out of the room and into the foyer. He tightened his hold on Zahrah, his ears tuned to his parents conversation._

_"... we can't possibly allow them to stay, Henrik-"_

_"But you heard her, Anneliese. They survived Warsaw... they're just children. They need help! If we can give that to them... Anneli- if we can give these girls some support... even the smallest support of Jews is taking a stand against Hitler's tyranny. We have to do something." _

_"Henrik-" _

_"Anneli, if we don't succeed, at least we'll know we tried. We have to try." Adrian couldn't stop the smile that tugged at his lips as he heard his own words echo from his father's lips, and after a moment, he rested his cheek against Zahrah's head, rocking her gently back and forth._


	34. Chapter 34

**Rifiuto: Non Miriena**

**A/N: Hey guys, it's Z. Here's the next chapter. **

_"My human conscience and my understanding of the fateful consequences both for the people involved and the policy of our country now and in the future did not allow me to remain idle. And I decided to do all in my power to prevent what was being planned from happening; I knew that this action was going to shame Bulgaria in the eyes of the world and brand her with a stain she didn't deserve."_

_- Dmitar Peshev (1894 - 1973) Deputy Speaker of Bulgaria's National Assembly who prevented Deportation of Bulgaria's 48,000 Jews by Rebelling against the pro-Nazi cabinet_

_United States Holocaust Memorial Museum_

_10:30 A.M._

Tim looked up as Ziva slipped back into the room, shutting the door behind her. He moved around the table, going to her. "Hey, you all right?" She nodded, slipping her arms into her pockets.

"We need to talk." He nodded, pulling away and returning to the table.

"Okay. I think found a clue to where Zahrah and Chava ended up after-"

"Not... about the case, Tim." He lifted his green eyes to her, meeting her gaze. She sniffled. "A... about..." She gestured to her belly. "... the baby..." He nodded, going back to her and taking her hand. As they took seats at the table, he shifted to face her, taking her hand.

"What about the baby?"

The breath she released was shaky, and he noticed tears spring to her eyes as she struggled to gain control. "I... If I am pregnant, I... I do not want it."

"You want to give it up for adoption?" She shifted her gaze to the table.

"I will not allow it to reach adoption." She muttered; Tim caught the meaning, and his face fell.

"Oh. Okay... um..." She looked up, watching as he quickly dropped her hand and stood, going back to the files. "Okay. It... it's your decision, Ziva. I won't stop you."

She didn't reply; she was waiting for the fallout, for him to yell at her, to tell her she was being selfish, that it was his baby too, and that he deserved a say in its existence. She got nothing in return, just the shuffling of papers and the softness of his footfalls on the carpet.

_Say something! Anything! Yell, scream, cry! I don't care, just say something other than 'okay!' Please!_

"I... I think I found the connection between the Hirsch sisters and the Fromm siblings." Taking a deep breath, she stood, joining him. He met her gaze briefly before turning back to the file he held. "They were in Berlin." She furrowed a brow. "The Hirsch sisters somehow managed to get to Berlin, where the Fromms lived." He perched on the edge of the table, crossing his arms.

"Don't you see, Zia? Berlin is the answer. It's the connection. I don't know how or where in Berlin, but that doesn't matter right now. Berlin is the connection- it's what connected the Fromm siblings to the Hirsch sisters. If we can find that connection, we may be able to figure out the rest of their story and _why_ Evan Zane was so interested in it." But before he could say any more, his cell rang and he slipped away to answer it, leaving her alone.

She turned to the files, spread out over the table, and after a moment, picked up the photocopied image of the Fromm siblings. He looked so much like Tim it was uncanny. Slowly, she sank into the chair, letting her gaze move over Adrian's features, forever frozen in time. He was handsome for such a young man; even though the photograph was in black and white, those eyes seemed to pierce her heart-

Much like Tim's did.

Her hand moved down of its own accord, caressing her belly. Though she'd told Tim that she was going to get rid of it, part of her was staunchly refusing; screaming that it was a tiny life, growing and forming, waiting for its chance to come into the world, to make a difference in the two lives that had created it. Her tears dripped onto the image, but she didn't notice; she didn't notice anything until he returned to her side.

"That was Gibbs. I gave him the information we'd found, and he wants us to go back to the hotel and pack." She met his gaze, confused.

"Why?"

"Because we have a flight to catch to Germany."

His words only deepened her confusion- which became greater as he began sorting the files and returning them to their envelopes before slipping them back into the bag. "What flight, Tim? Where?"

"We'll stop by the drug store and pick up a couple of tests. You can take them before we leave, so that we know for sure. With any luck, you won't be pregnant."

She reeled back, his words washing over her like the coldest of ice. "I... I'm sorry? Wh... _what_?" He looked up, meeting her gaze.

"You don't want the baby. We agreed earlier that we'd stop by the drug store and pick up a couple tests. Remember? Check to see if you're pregnant, and if you aren't we have nothing to worry about."

"I do not understand. First you talk about a flight and now you are talking about tests and the baby.. Tim, _what is going on_?" He stopped packing up the files and sighed, making his way towards her. Gently, he took her hand, squeezing her fingers as he met her gaze.

"Gibbs called." She nodded. "I relayed what information we'd learned today." Another nod. "He told me to take you back to the hotel so we can pack." Another slow nod. "But before we go back to the hotel, we'll stop by the drugstore and pick up a pregnancy test. After you take it and we get the results back, we'll need to check out. Following so far?" She nodded once. "Gibbs and Director Shepard has booked us seats on a flight out of D.C. in two hours."

"But... where are we going?"

He furrowed a brow, as if she'd lost her mind. Had she_ not_ heard him earlier? "Berlin."


	35. Chapter 35

**Rifiuto: Non Miriena**

**A/N: Z's cravings seem to get worse at night... pickles and peppermint ice cream this time... **

_"How or where can we meet the people in their time of need if we are not in the midst?"_

_- Major Alida Bosshardt (1913 - 2007), Salvation Army Officer in Netherlands during WWII_

Berlin, Germany

8:00 P.M.

_The water rushed over her dark curls in first a waterfall and then in rivulets. She kept her eyes closed, refusing to acknowledge the older woman working her hands through damp, dark curls. If she didn't acknowledge Mrs. Fromm, then she wouldn't start to think of Ima, and she wouldn't start to cry. Yes, that was best option. Complete silence._

_Unfortunately, Mrs. Fromm had other ideas._

_"Adrian and Cora tell me you and your sister lived in the sewers for weeks while you escaped the ghetto." She clucked her tongue. "It must have been horrible. I can only imagine-" She stopped when the girl didn't respond. "Can you tell me about your older siblings? Adrian said you had an older brother and sister."_

_Silence._

_"You were very lucky, you and your sister, to escape the ghetto alive." She dredged the pitcher through the warm water again, drizzling it over the girl's head once more to rinse out the soap. "How old are you? Cora told me that Eva is ten." _

_"Chava." _

_"What?" Slowly, the younger girl turned to look at her over her shoulder; tears glistened in her eyes as she whispered,_

_"My sister's name is Cha-va."_

_Anneliese studied the girl- a child, really- sitting before her. It had been her idea to give both girls' baths, thinking it would make both feel better about staying with the family. And while Eva had chattered excitedly about everything she could think of, Zara had kept quiet, lost in her thoughts. It was blatantly clear that the girl didn't trust Germans- and why should she, when her family had been stripped of everything, including their lives, save for herself and her younger sister, who, by the grace of God himself- in Anneliese's eyes- had managed to escape the slaughter at Warsaw and reach Berlin and the surprising safety of their home?_

_At first, she'd objected to the girls staying, but Henrik had worn her down- his lecture about doing the right thing in the face of tyranny and hate had had no effect until he'd uttered the same words Adrian had the day he returned from University. One look at the girls when they returned to the living room had helped her make up her mind. She'd gone to the foyer and locked the door, before returning to the living room and pulling the heavy dark green drapes over the light curtains, hiding all view inside. She'd then fixed a quick meal for the girls, and though Chava had relished the food, Zara had only picked at it before pushing it away._

_She'd gotten up, retreating to the living room and dropping to her knees in front of the fire, struggling not to break down. Adrian had gone to her, pulling her into his arms and letting her cry. It was then that Anneliese realized that, like Cora with Chava, Adrian had developed a particular attachment to Zara. Though she knew nothing of the kiss in the rain, she did know that he look on it as his job to protect her- it didn't matter against whom._

_So when she'd suggested that maybe a bath would do both girls good, Chava had rushed to her with excitement, and in her chattering, had let slip a single word,_

_Ima. _

_At first, the girl hadn't realized what she'd said, until she'd turned to her sister, whom Adrian had walked into the foyer. The pain in the older girl's eyes had been evident and clear, and all had understood on some level what Ima meant._

_Mother. _

_Now, she studied the girl- a child, forced to grow up far too fast in a world bent on destroying her and others of her race; an orphan, lost and longing for the comforting arms of her own mother, and sadly, given a cold substitute. She nodded. "Ch-ava?" A moment passed, before the girl nodded once, lowering her gaze. Anneliese swallowed. "I will remember that. Now, let's get you out and dried off." She stood, holding out a towel. Slowly, the girl stood, accepting the hand she offered as she stepped out of the tub._

_The girl slipped, stumbling into Anneliese's arms. Slowly, the girl looked up, fear in her eyes, and she gave her a soft smile. "It's okay. You're all right." Zara was quiet, and once steady on her feet, allowed her to dry her off. As she worked on drying the girl's skin, she couldn't help but find herself curious about the girl. "You are Polish?" She looked up from working on the girl's legs and stomach. Zara nodded. "From Warsaw?" Another nod. Slowly, she stood, now drying off her shoulders. "How old are you?"_

_Zara was quiet, and Anneliese took that as her answer, but soon heard a broken, yet soft German answer,_

_"Ach... achtzehn." _

_Anneliese felt her eyes widen in shock. She had thought the girl was Cora's age- but that could have been because she was thin, and if she'd been surviving in the sewers, the lack of food would contribute to her weight loss- but to discover that she was actually older- _

_"You are two years younger than my son." She replied, reaching up and drying the girl's hair. Zara let her, keeping her eyes closed and her head down. _

_"Zwan... Zwanzig?" She soon found herself staring into wide dark eyes, and after a moment, she nodded, before wrapping the towel around the girl and pushing her towards a chair as she picked up a comb and began running it through the damp curls to get the tangles out. _

_"Yes. He's twenty. Though he looks much younger, and so he's often dismissed because of his looks, not his ideas or his mind. He spent two and a half years at University in Munich, before coming home. He lost... several good friends to Hitler." She sighed, lost in thought. After a moment, a soft chuckle escaped her throat. "My Adrian... so passionate, so full of fire... it's that fire that gives him the courage to stand up for what's right, but what he doesn't understand is that... that same fire will get him into trouble... and if he's not careful... that same fire will take his life."_

_Zara's eyes snapped open, her gaze sliding to the side at the feel of someone watching her. Out of the corner of her eye, she caught Adrian, leaning against the door frame, hiding within the shadows of the foyer, keeping protective watch over her._


	36. Chapter 36

**Rifiuto: Non Miriena**

**A/N: Okay, it could just be my hormones but... I _need_ to go find Evan... **

_"They're guys who want to screw around all the time, which interests me not at all. God knows we've done that, been there, and we don't want to do that anymore."_

_- Lauren Bacall (1924 - 2014), American Actress and Humphrey Bogart's Leading Lady_

_Oświęcim Hotel_

_Suite 145_

_10:45 A.M._

Tim looked up from his packing as the bathroom door opened and Ziva stepped out. She was a mess; that was the only way to describe the sight before him. He stopped, going to her, but one look at her face told him the answer. She held the test out to him; his gaze fell, finding the single word staring back at him.

_"I'm pregnant."_

She choked on a sob, meeting his gaze. Tears chased each other down her cheeks before they dripped from her chin. He sighed, joining her as she dropped onto the edge of the bed. "It's your choice, Ziva. I'm not going to stop you if you want an abortion." Slowly, her gaze moved to meet his, mouth dropping open.

_"Why?"_ He cocked his head to the side.

"You made it abundantly clear earlier that you _don't want_ the baby. Sure, I'll be disappointed, but it's not my body and it's not my decision. It's yours."

She lowered her gaze to her belly, reaching down to cradle it. Suddenly, all she wanted-

Her mouth clamped shut. She didn't _know_ what she wanted, not really, not fully, not yet. She knew the options that awaited her, should she return to Israel pregnant and unmarried. Especially if her father found out she was carrying an _American_ child. On the one hand, if she had this baby, it would destroy her career in Mossad, and her father would kill her. But on the other hand... this was Tim's baby. It was what they'd created _together_-

How could she possibly destroy this tiny human being that she'd made with this beautiful, gentle, caring man?

"I... I want to... to keep it." She looked up, gauging his reaction. Nothing yet. And then, he raised an eyebrow, surprised by her sudden change of heart.

"Are you sure?" She nodded, reaching up and brushing away the tears that slid down her cheeks.

"_Ken._ I... I can't... destroy it... it's _yours_." Then, against her better judgement- most likely thanks of her screwed up hormones, she decided- she climbed into his lap, sliding her fingers over his cheeks and into his hair. She studied his eyes for a moment, before leaning down and kissing him deeply. The test that had sealed their fates together dropped from his hand to the floor as he wrapped his arms tight around her waist, holding her to him.

She gasped against his mouth as he rubbed against her; her sensitivity heightened tenfold, she bit her lip to keep from crying out. Instead, she reached for the buttons of his shirt and quickly undid them, pushing the article of clothing off his shoulders before moving her hands down to his belt. But he grabbed her wrist, shaking his head. Without a word, he pulled her blouse over her head, before pushing her back until she was standing.

She started to ask- but soon his hands were on her slacks, undoing the button and zipper and sliding the soft material down her thighs, leaving her in only her bra and underwear. Suddenly self-conscious, she crossed her arms over her chest, even as her eyes wandered down his smooth chest to the button on his pants. Of their own accord, her hands reached out, undoing and removing the barrier that kept them apart.

Before she could react at all, he'd pushed her against the wall, his mouth on hers, his hands tracing the curves he'd spent hours exploring at the beginning of this op. He tugged the straps of her bra down, moving his mouth down to work on the soft skin of her breasts. His hands found her waist, and he pulled her hips closer, pressing his growing erection between her legs. She whimpered, wrapping her arms tight around his waist as she tugged his boxers from his legs. Her underwear soon followed-

She hissed as he brushed against her, sending waves of shock through her system. Their mouths met once more, and he wrapped his arms around her waist, lifting her gently off the floor and pressing her against the wall. Her arm wrapped tightly around his neck, holding him to her as he pushed into her. They continued to move together, tension and passion building up within their bodies as they moved together. Her legs wrapped around his waist, driving him deeper into her, causing a cry of ecstasy to escape her throat as her senses went into overdrive.

Every part of her body was taut as a bowstring, held at the precipice, waiting to snap so she could be free to scream his name as he drove deeper into her body. Her eyes closed and she arched her back as he slid one hand between them, rolling the small bundle of nerves between his fingers. A forced whimper escaped her throat, and she dug her nails into his back, even as he caught her mouth with his, drinking her in.

Eventually, need and desire won out for both of them, and they clung tightly, screaming each others' names as orgasm took control of both. With her senses heightened to such a degree, it overtook her; she reached out for something, digging her short nails into the wall she was pressed up against, a scream of such primal desire ripping itself from her throat. When they finally came down from the height, she slumped against him, resting her forehead to his. She tightened her grip on his neck, a sigh of contentment escaping her throat as she enjoyed the fact that he was nestled comfortably inside her, much as their baby was, and that, for now at least, her father would never know.


	37. Chapter 37

**Rifiuto: Non Miriena**

**A/N: **Okay, a pregnant woman should _not_ write love scenes... and then_ insist_ on recreating them... at_ 4:00_ in the morning... and she wonders _why_ our neighbors were banging on the door... -Ev** **

****Thanks to Reader for reviewing 31, 32, 33, 34, 35 and 36.****

_ "You do these things because in your mind there is no other way of doing it."_

_- Jaap Penraat (1918 - 2006) Dutch Architect who Forged Identity Cards and helped Jews escape to Spain _

Berlin, Germany

The Next Day

4:00 A.M.

_He wasn't sure what jolted him violently from his sleep, but it didn't really matter. Sitting up and glancing around, he stopped when his gaze landed on the dresser. After his mother had given both girls a quick bath, she'd given them fresh, clean nightgowns to wear, and then followed the rest of them up to Adrian's room. He and Cora moved the dresser away from the wall, showing their parents where they'd hid the girls for the past two weeks, and after some discussion, their father decided that they could do something that would make it a little more comfortable for the girls now that they'd be staying with them permanently. Though no one dared breathe the last word all were thinking it but Zara, who had pulled once more into herself and slipped into the hall, dashing halfway down the stairs only to stop and break down._

_He'd quickly followed, pulling her into his arms, asking what was wrong, only for her to shake her head and try to push him away. But when she clung to him, he realized that he didn't have to ask; it was about her parents, about the family she'd lost, and sudden realization that she and Eva were now officially alone in the world. It had taken some convincing, but finally, he'd been able to convince Zara that this was their best option, that his family would do all they could to protect them- _

_Now, he climbed out of bed and made his way to the dresser, silently pushing it out of the way. His mother had gathered more blankets and pillows, making the floor softer for the girls to lie on; giving them something akin to a normal bed within the small space. She'd also found a small wooden chest to place their knapsacks and the few possessions they'd brought with them from the ghetto in. Once the dresser was moved, he quickly lit a candle- to keep from attracting light despite the blackout curtains over his windows, and returned to the hole, holding it up briefly to see into the wall. _

_Zara stared back at him, tears glistening on her cheeks. Eva lay beside her, sound asleep, clutching a doll she'd brought with her from Warsaw. Quickly setting the candle on the dresser, Adrian reached into the wall, helping the older sister sit up. "Oh, Zara-"_

_"I... did I wake you?" She whispered, sniffling. He shook his head. _

_"No. I was already awake. What's wrong?" She kept silent, but allowed him to push the blankets back and lift her out of the wall, his hands warm on her skin even through the flannel of her nightgown. Her hands gripped his shoulders tightly, and she allowed her forehead to rest against his for several minutes as she struggled to keep from crying. After a moment, he slid his arms around her waist, pulling her closer. "Zara-"_

_"Do you have any coffee?" He was startled by her abrupt change of subject, but shook his head, silently._

_"We'll have to make some." She nodded._

_"I... I will make it. It is... the least I can do to repay your family for your kindness." And she pulled away, moving silently from the room and down the stairs towards the kitchen. He sighed, following. He found her in the kitchen, silently working on the coffee, her movements robotic; clearly she had done this a thousand times before-_

_She stopped, leaning against the counter, rocking back and forth on her heels, her head down. Soft sobs escaped her throat, and without a second thought, Adrian rushed to her, sliding his arms around her waist and pulling her to him. "Shh. Hush, Zara." But she shook her head, reaching to continue, refusing to allow him to see her so weak. He reached out, sliding his hand over hers and wrapping his fingers around hers, holding her hand in place. "Please, Zara. Stop. You will make yourself sick." He brushed a soft kiss to her temple, humming softly as he curled his arms tight around her small frame, holding her to him. She buried her face in his neck, her sobs breaking his heart._

_After a moment, he pulled away and gently pushed her into one of the chairs at the table, before finishing the coffee and filling two cups. He set one in front of her before taking a seat beside her. Zara stared at the liquid in her cup, tears slipping down her cheeks as she fought to maintain control. Finally, she whispered,_

_"I... I used to help Ima... make the coffee for Abba before he... before he went to work." She choked on a sob, gasping for breath as the emotion clogged her throat. "She would... allow me to... measure the beans into a cup and then... pour them in the grinder and... let me turn the crank..." She sniffled. "Abba would come in and give both Ima and I kisses, saying 'My little coffee girl helping today?' Always he would say that..." She lowered her head. "And now he is gone... and Ima and Miriam and Levi... it is just Chava and I..." She choked on a sob, forcing a shaky breath as she lifted her gaze to the cup in front of her. "Now we are the daughters of a dead man-" _

_Her words were bitter, every syllable filled to the brim with hate and anger- anger at her parents' deaths, at her siblings' murders, at how they'd been forced to scrounge out a miserable living in the ghetto simply because they were Jews, at the circumstances that had landed her and her sister to be depended on Gentiles- and Germans, no less; the very people responsible for the terror and destruction of her race. "We are alone..." _

_Silently, Adrian reached over, sliding his hand over hers and lacing their fingers together. He shook his head. "No, Zara. You aren't. You have my family."Her gaze left the cup, meeting his. Tears slid down her cheeks as she stared at him, not fully believing his words. "You have me."_


	38. Chapter 38

**Rifiuto: Non Miriena**

**A/N: Sorry guys, Ev and I didn't leave the bed much today... don't worry, not making anymore babies. That ship's sailed already with one on board. But we were having fun. And... we _might_ have awoken the neighbors... once... or twice...**  
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_"There is a somewhat nervous disposition among the passengers. Despite this, everyone seems convinced they will never see Germany again. Touching departure scenes have taken place. Many seem light of heart, having left their homes. Others take it heavily. But beautiful weather, pure sea air, good food, and attentive service will soon provide the usual worry-free atmosphere of long sea voyages. Painful impressions on land disappear quickly at sea and soon seem merely like dreams."_

_- Gustav Schröder (1885 - 1959), Captain of the doomed M.S. St. Louis, which carried 915 Jewish refugees in search of refuge to Cuba & America before forcibly returning to Europe_

_Berlin Tegel Airport_

_Berlin, Germany_

_7:00 P.M._

They caught their flight just in time, spent the eight hour flight talking softly and going over what they'd gathered, before finally arriving at Berlin's Tegel Airport at six-thirty. They now sat at the cafe, getting themselves reacquainted with sold ground as they waited for one of the agents stationed in Berlin came to greet them. Ziva rested her head on her arm, a cup of herbal tea steaming in front of her. Tim looked up from his phone call with Gibbs- letting them know they'd arrived safely in Berlin and would continue their search for whatever Evan and Ella Zane were searching for- and reached over, taking her fingers in his, squeezing them gently. She gave him a small smile, returning the squeeze. Once he finished the call, he slipped his phone into his pocket and took a sip of his coffee. "How're you feeling, Zia?"

She shrugged, eyes beginning to close. "Sprained." He chuckled softly.

"You mean drained?" She nodded, forcing her eyes open. "That's to be expected- you are pregnant after all. This is your body's way of-"

"Agent McGee and Officer David?" Tim turned as a man stopped at their table. He nodded as Ziva sat up, brushing the sleep from her eyes. "Oh good. I was afraid you had both left. I'm sorry I'm late, traffic was Hell, but it always is on the way to the airport. I'm Agent Wilkins, Berlin office. I'll be taking you to your hotel and gathering all information you need on this case."

After introductions and a brief explanation of why they were there, the couple followed him out to the waiting car. The ride to their hotel was silent as Ziva had fallen asleep with her head on Tim's shoulder, and after checking in, they headed up to their room. After taking the bags into the room, he returned to the hall, where he'd left Ziva, sitting beside the door, sound asleep.

He stood in the doorway, taking a few moments to study her before scooping the petite Israeli into his arms and carrying her into the room. He took her back to the bedroom- for their room was another suite, acquired under the guise that Evan Zane had been called away from his business to Berlin to see and buy a just-discovered Holocaust artifact from the family of a deceased Nazi, and that his wife had come with him. But while they were there, Gibbs and Shepard would be keeping close tabs on them through the Berlin office-

Once he undressed her and placed her in her pajamas, he pulled back the covers and tucked her into bed. As he reached down to grab the blankets, his arm brushed against her stomach, pushing her top up. His breath caught as he stared at the skin of her belly, and after a moment, he perched on the edge beside her. The blankets forgotten, his gaze remained fixed on her stomach, and gently, he reached out.

Her skin was soft, smooth, olive-colored silk. Tears pricked at the backs of his eyes; his hand rested atop where their child now resided, where it was growing and taking shape at this very moment, nestled protectively within her womb. He sniffled, turning away briefly. But then he turned back, tugging her shirt back down and tucking the blankets around her as he got up. Before he slipped out of the room, he brushed a soft kiss to her cheek.

As he shut the door, leaving her to sleep, he leaned against it, forcing himself to remain calm, despite the million thoughts running loose in his head. What was he going to tell his family? How would his mother react? How would Sarah? He knew how his father would react- the discovery that his son had fathered a... a bastard... out of wedlock would just cement further his knowledge that his son was a failure. A small part of him wished he'd joined the Navy, if only to have avoided such a colossal... mistake.

_No, it's not just Ziva's fault; it takes two to make a baby. You are as much responsible for that tiny life forming inside her as she is, if not more. It was your sperm that fertilized her egg, not the other way around..._

He swallowed, moving away from the door and going to the sofa. He took a seat, resting his elbows on his knees as he let his thoughts get the better of him. He was going to be a father... he had no business being a father, not with the job he was in, not to mention the father-figure he had faced growing up. Who was to say he wouldn't turn out exactly like his father? Domineering, emotionally and psychologically abusive, absent- but with good reason. How was he to know that he wouldn't turn out just like the Admiral, or that he wouldn't want a thing to do with the baby once it was born?

He knew from his mother's stories that his father had fallen in love with him when he was born- as all fathers did with their children- but that soon, work took him away, leaving his wife to raise and play the role of both parents while he was gone. That distance had grown exponentially as Tim had gotten older- the phrase "I have somewhere to be" was looked at as a greeting and a goodbye all in one in the McGee family, and Tim had soon turned from his father, realizing early on that while he craved the love and attention most fathers gave, he would never receive it. Not from the Admiral. But were he honest with himself, Gibbs was looking more and more like a father-figure to him with every passing day he spent under the blue-eyed former Marine's leadership.

After a moment, he stretched out on the sofa, turning his gaze to the ceiling, debating when, how and the best time for them to inform the others of the baby on its way. Of course, it all depended on how long this op took- Ziva could be seven months along by the time they returned to D.C., if this op lasted longer than normal. Eventually, exhaustion won out, tugging him towards the sweet caress of slumber, and he fell into a restless sleep of dreams and fears.


	39. Chapter 39

**Rifiuto: Non Miriena**

**A/N: Hey guys, it's Ev. Here's 39, and Z's chapter 40 should be up soon.**  
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_""To trample democracy with one's feet and to give power to a single man over almost eighty million people is so terrible that one can very probably tremble over the events which will come here."_

_- Friedrich Kellner (1885 - 1970), German Justice Inspector who helped Jews escape Laubach_

Berlin, Germany

7:00 A.M.

_Anneliese tugged the drapes back from the curtains in the living room, before heading into the kitchen- she left the curtains over the window, for they were light and airy, despite the thickness of the material, so no one could look in- and making breakfast. She stopped, however, at the sight of the coffeepot, filled halfway with coffee. She furrowed a brow, opening her mouth to speak when footsteps caused her to turn. "Morning, Anneli-"_

_"Did you make coffee this morning?" Henrik adjusted his tie, glancing at her._

_"No. Why?" She turned back to the pot._

_"Because I came in here to make it, and it's already made-"_

_"Zara made it." Both turned to see Cora standing in the kitchen, dressed in her school uniform, her bag over her shoulder, long hair in braids._

_"How do you know that, Cora?" She asked, resting a hand on the counter. The girl swallowed, nervous._

_"Be... because I saw her make it. Or... I saw her start to, and then Brother finished making it."_

_"Why did your brother finish?" Henrik asked, watching his daughter._

_"Because Zara started to cry. She used to make coffee with her mother, and her father would call her his coffee girl."_

_"How do you know that?" The teenager turned to find Zara behind her, Chava and Adrian in tow. The child moved past them into the kitchen, her usual happy self, but her sister narrowed her eyes._

_"I... I was..." But before she could get another word out, Zara had moved past her into the kitchen. Adrian shook his head, leaning down to whisper,_

_"Don't you ever keep your mouth shut? Or recognize a private conversation when you hear one?" Cora met her brother's gaze, and after a moment, he moved past her. He made his way towards Zara, who stood at the window, peeking out through the curtain. It had been so long since she'd seen a busy city street not surrounded by four brick walls and eaten away by disease, that she couldn't help herself._

_"No! Someone will see you!" She dropped the edge of the curtain, turning back to the others as Cora rushed to her. The girl instantly regretted scolding the older girl as Zara thinned her lips and ducked her head, taking a seat at the table. Her sister climbed into the chair beside her, giving her a smile, and after a moment, Zara returned a faint smile. Anneliese silently poured the rest of the coffee into four cups, watching the girls out of the corner of her eye. In the few short hours since they'd discovered the girls hiding in the wall of Adrian's room thanks to Cora, both she and Henrik had found themselves wanting to do all they could to protect them._

_Perhaps it was because of the atrocities they read of in the papers, or the eyewitness accounts by colleagues of Henrik's who had witnessed the rounding up of Jews first hand, or perhaps it was that the violence of the Kristallnacht that, even five years later, still sent fear and horror coursing through those that had witnessed it first hand- for Henrik had been returning from work that night, and had witnessed the ending results- the beatings, murders, and mass destruction of stores, synagogues and buildings, leaving the broken glass to look like stars fallen from Heaven to land upon the streets of Berlin._

_Adrian had been fifteen, and not yet as outspoken against the Nazis as he would be once he reached University and got involved with the Scholl siblings. But it had worried her son, that much was clear, just as it worried her and her husband. It was about that time that Henrik began gathering with his colleagues and began distributing the leaflets anonymously. While his actions harmed no one, they worried his wife- those that spoke out against Hitler- even anonymously- would suffer were they caught._

_She scoffed internally. Funny, how she had gone from fearing for her husband and son's safety while they distributed leaflets, to actively hiding Jews within the walls of her house within a few short years. How the times changed..._

_Adrian took a seat at table, placing Zara between him and Chava, and the two talked silently together, their conversation taking place with looks and actions instead of words and voices. It surprised her at how her son had grown up; he'd gone from a bright-eyed, optimistic little boy to a cynical young man who still, despite the horrors going on around him, managed to find a tiny scrap of hope within. The fire she knew filled her son's soul burned just as brightly now as it had when he was a child- maybe even more so now that he had a true way of making a difference in the world, no matter how meager it was._

_Yes, despite the deaths of Sophie and Hans, the disbanding of the White Rose, and his flighty return from University, her Adrian had managed to find something to keep fighting for- in the form of two Jewish girls in desperate need of help. And he'd latched onto this cause with that wildly burning fire, until it had touched all in the house, leading them to now. She sighed; she just prayed to God that the fire her son possessed wouldn't consume them all and leave nothing left but ashes._

_She turned and shut off the coffeemaker, and when she turned back, her gaze locked on Adrian and Zara. Neither had said a single word since entering the kitchen, but they still sat together, their silent conversation the loudest in the room-_

_Anneliese watched, as beneath the table, Adrian reached out and took Zara's hand, sliding their fingers together with a gentle squeeze before he leaned over and- in full view of everyone- brushed a soft kiss to her cheek._


	40. Chapter 40

**Rifiuto: Non Miriena**

**A/N: Hey guys, Z wanted me to post this. We... won't be on much today. I mean, we'll... post the chapters... but we're gonna spend the majority of the day in bed... thanks to an unexpected visit to our midwife... it looks like we... _won't_ be welcoming our little Bug in seven months after all... - Ev**  
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_"It is not known exactly how many of these people regained their freedom, because some people went different ways and to different countries"_

_- Charles Coward (1905 - 1976), the Count of Auschwitz _

_Berlin, Germany_

_Scandic Berlin Potsdamer Platz Hotel_

_1:30 P.M._

He shifted, unable to escape the nightmares in his head. No matter which way he turned, they were there, haunting him, waiting to devour him-

_"No!"_

He shot up with a cry, and as he gasped for breath, he found Ziva sitting beside him on the sofa, a cup of coffee in her hands. She set the cup on the table after taking a sip and scooted closer, reaching out and brushing the back of her hand over his cheeks and forehead. "Shh. Hush, Tim. It was just a nightmare." He watched her, silent as he struggled to catch his breath. "You are safe. You are with me. With us." She amended, resting her other hand against her belly. A moment passed before he reached for his phone to check the time, only to find his jacket gone. "It is hanging up in the closet, and your phone is charging in the bedroom."

"What... what's the time?" She raised an eyebrow as she picked up her cup again and took another sip.

"One thirty." Slowly, he shifted, moving his feet to the floor.

"I overslept? When I laid down, it was... seven... eight at the latest! Why didn't you wake me?" She wrapped her hands around the cup, taking a deep breath.

"I woke up about ten, but you were not in bed beside me. I found you out here, and decided you needed your rest, so I closed the curtains and slipped the sign onto the door before returning to bed. You were not sleeping well. You were muttering in your sleep... twisting and turning..."

"I... nightmare..." She nodded, continuing to sip her coffee. "But... I don't... where..."

"We are in Berlin, remember? Gibbs sent us over, to figure out what the Zanes were looking for." He nodded slowly, finally seeing her for the first time, and after a moment, he sighed, sinking into the sofa.

"Are you okay? And the baby?" She gave him a small smile.

"Bug is fine. We are both fine." He lifted his head from the back of the sofa, one eyebrow raised.

"Bug?" She nodded.

"The baby is still too small to know the sex, so I figured... until we know and choose a name, that I would give it a nickname." He stood, groaning softly as the vertebrae in his back popped.

"I understand that, but why... '_bug'_ of all things?" Ziva shrugged.

"It just... seems appropriate at this point." He nodded, too mentally exhausted to argue, and went to the small kitchenette, fixing a cup of coffee. "I have been looking over our files."

"Oh? Find anything new?" She stood, going back to the bedroom, beckoning him to follow.

"Actually, I did." When they reached the bedroom, Ziva set her cup down and climbed back onto the bed, pulling the laptop towards her from the countless papers lined upon the bed. Tim joined her, taking a seat on the other side, gently moving the papers out of the way. He slipped an arm around her waist, tugging her closer, and she smiled, glancing over her shoulder at him. "Look at this." She quickly pulled up a website- an archive of some kind, though all in-

"Um... Zia, it's in German."

She looked at him. "I know."

"I don't _know_ German."

A grin tugged at her lips, and she met his gaze. "I speak five languages- one being German. Do not worry, Tim, I will teach you along the way. I can be a very persuasive teacher. Especially if I have the right pupil." She pressed a kiss to his nose, giggling when it wrinkled in annoyance. But after a moment, he asked,

"What other languages do you speak?" She looked at him through her lashes, thinking. Then, she reached over, trailing one finger up his thigh as she spoke.

"French... Italian... Russian..." Her gaze followed her finger, and once she reached the top of his thigh, she slid her hand between his legs to caress him. "... and Arabic." Without another word, she tilted her head back, capturing his lips in a deep, searching kiss. He pulled her closer, his fingers splaying over her stomach as he held her to him. She scooted back until she was sitting in his lap; she reached up, sliding her hand around his neck-

But before it could get much further, Tim broke the kiss, turning his head. "Zia, I know your hormones are... but not right now. We have a case to solve." She sighed, resting her head against him. When she'd finally regained herself, she moved to return to the bed, but tightened his hold. "You don't have to leave, just show me what you found." She nodded, pulling the laptop towards them.

"Right... this.. is the archives of the Berlin county courthouse. Now, I was able to find the records from nineteen-twenty to nineteen-forty-five, the time Henrik Fromm was supposed to have practice law. Now, he is recorded in from the years twenty on- until late forty-three."

"So? Where are you going with this, Zia?" Tim didn't see where she was going with this. Anyone could search the archives-

"Just... look." She pulled up another record, pointing to one word, stamped across it in black. He shook his head.

"Disbarred. Tim, Henrik Fromm was _disbarred_ from practicing law ever again, and then I found another document that says he practiced law in secret afterwards. But look at the reason for his disbarment." She pointed to a phase below the word. He raised an eyebrow, shaking his head. She sighed. "It says the courts disbarred him under suspicion that he was helping_ Jews_."


	41. Chapter 41

**Rifiuto: Non Miriena**

**A/N: Z said she'd got something she's going to post later tonight, once she finishes it. It's not connected to this story.**  
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**A/N: Yes, this is an AU spin on _Berlin_... and pay close attention to the small moment at the end.**

_"No man can tell another man where to draw the line. Each man only can tell what his conscience demands."_

_- Hiram 'Harry' Bingham IV (1903 - 1988), American Vice Consul who Helped Over 2,500 Jews escape France  
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Berlin, Germany

10:00 A.M.

_Adrian looked up as Zara slipped into the living room. His mother was upstairs making the bed in the master, leaving Adrian and the girls in the living room. Cora had left for school an hour earlier, and Henrik was at work. The curtains in the living room remained drawn, and there was a small fire in the fireplace, warming the cold room. Chava was playing with her doll in front of the fire, telling it stories as though it were her daughter; though she was only ten, she- like her sister- had been forced to grow up fast. Her most impressionable years had been sliced through with their move to the ghetto, and so when she was able to be a child, Zara couldn't keep that from her._

_He gave her a small smile as she made her way towards the sofa, and after a moment, the girl slowly took a seat on the opposite end of where he sat. She stared straight ahead, fingers knotted tight together. He watched her for several minutes, before he returned to his book, but five minutes later, his gaze was back on her; she hadn't moved, and he couldn't decide if she was thinking or had turned to stone. After a moment, he shut his book and turned to her, setting it on the table. "You don't have to sit there, you know. You can walk around. Or... read or going into the kitchen and fix something to eat-"_

_"From what little you are forced to share with us." She muttered, refusing to look at him. He scoffed gently._

_"We are happy to share if it keeps you both alive and out of the hands of the Gestapo. But if you aren't hungry, you can-"_

_"Do anything I want but go outside." She replied, turning her gaze to him. He sighed, nodding. She laughed dryly. "What is the good of being here if I cannot go outside?" She returned her gaze to whatever she'd been staring so intently at clear across the room. "I used to go outside all the time. Levi would take Miriam and I outside and we would ride our bicycles up and down the streets, and race each other back to the house." She swallowed. "But they are dead now. Just like Ima and Abba, and because we are Jews we are denied everything, even the feel of sunshine and fresh air."_

_He rested his elbows on his knees, watching her. Levi and Miriam must have been her older siblings- Eva had talked about them, but Zara refused to acknowledge that she had ever had other siblings, most likely to keep the pain away. "Look, I know you're upset that you can't go outside, and I am sorry about the rest of your family, but think of your sister. Eva is here-"_

_"Chava!" She snapped, glancing at him. "Her name is Cha-va!" The child looked up from her playing, before ducking her head and returning to her doll. He ignored her._

_"What I'm saying, Zara, is that you and Eva are safe. We won't let anything happen to you. And as for not being able to go outside..." He stood, going to the radio and turning it on. He messed with it for a moment, before finding what he wanted, and turning back. He made his way towards her, holding out a hand. "But inside, you can listen to the radio and dance."_

_Her gaze darted from the hand he held out to his face, eyes narrowing. She untangled her fingers from each other and rested them on the sofa on either side of her. Slowly, her fingers began to curl into the material as she curled in on herself even further, a cat cornered and desperate for escape. "What do you want from me?"_

_He shrugged, his request simple. "I want you to dance with me, Zara."_

_She stared at him as though he'd lost his mind or grown a second head. "No." He cocked his head._

_"Why not?" She lowered her head. "Don't tell me that you don't know how to dance."_

_"Zahrah does not dance." Adrian turned to Chava, who looked up from her playing._

_"She doesn't?" The child shook her head. "Does she know how?"_

_Chava nodded, getting up and going to the kitchen, holding tightly to her doll. "Ken. She thinks dancing is for children. Zahrah has very grown up ideas." Adrian gave the child a soft smile before turning back to her sister. He knelt in front of her, resting his hands on her knees. She looked down, surprised to see his hands laying atop her skirt._

_"You know, you don't have to be a grown up all the time." Slowly, she met his gaze. "I've found that it gets awfully boring."He held out his hand again. "Please, Zara, dance with me." She met his gaze, biting her lip. Then, after a moment, she reached up, slowly resting her hand into his. He smiled at her before standing and pulling her to her feet. She stumbled against him, a blush creeping onto her skin. "It's okay, I've got you."_

_She met his gaze, before turning her head, eyes going to her sister, who sat watching as he took her hands, leading her into a small jitterbug. It was clear that Zara had never danced much in her eighteen years- she was as stiff as the walls that protected them from the outside. So to try and get her to loosen up, he spun her out and then back in, dipping her when she returned to his arms. She grabbed onto his shoulders, worried he would drop her, but he held tightly to her. As he set her back on her feet, the tune changed to a soft, slow romantic ballad, popular in nightclubs. _

_As the lyrics rang through the house, he pulled her close, slipping his arm around her waist, tugging her to him. He took her other hand, curling his fingers around hers. "It's okay. I've got you. You're safe, Zara. I'm right here." A moment passed, before she slowly rested her head against his shoulder, her eyes filling with tears, her father's words echoing in her head._

_"One day, Zahrah my flower, you will find a man who will do all he can to protect you. And when he is done protecting you, he will pull you into his arms and dance with you." _

_She swallowed thickly, tears slipping down her cheeks. Adrian, noticing her silence, brushed a kiss to her head, hiding his surprise as she curled further into his embrace._


	42. Chapter 42

**Rifiuto: Non Miriena**

_"If we have power, we'll never give it up again unless we're carried out of our offices as corpses."_

_- Joseph Goebbels (1897 - 1945), Reich Minister of __Propaganda__  
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_Berlin, Germany_

_Scandic Berlin Potsdamer Platz Hotel_

_2:30 P.M._

"So... let me see if I've got this right. Henrik Fromm was disbarred in nineteen-forty-three for _presumably_ helping Jews." Ziva nodded. "But he continued to practice law in secret? How... that's not... that's not possible!"

She chuckled softly, one hand moving down to caress her belly as she watched him pace. "Anything is possible if you place time and effort and faith into it, Tim." Her expression turned thoughtful and her fingers stopped their movement. He turned to her, his gaze meeting hers, but she knew his mind was on the case, and this mystery surrounding their... alternate personas, as she had taken to calling them.

"Yes, well, some of us aren't as optimistic as you, Ziva." He whispered, going to the small dining table in their suite and picking up the photocopy of the Fromm siblings' portrait. He leaned against the table, studying them. They looked so much like Sarah and himself, it was scary. And to think-

Something had happened; something horrible had taken place, destroying this family and wiping its two youngest members from history and the world for good. His gaze moved to the photocopy of the Hirsch family portrait. The same had happened to them. But because they were Jews, their history, their deaths were tied forever to the evil of the Holocaust and the madness of Hitler. And yet...

And yet, their two youngest daughters had disappeared; no trace ever having been found. And somehow, someway, in some strange, sick, twisted joke played by history, these four young people had paid the price for one man's evil and a country's bloody, deadly deeds. They had become the lost, the forgotten children of the Holocaust- innocent lives whose names were forever lost to the annals of the world, a curse never to be breathed again.

These were children, innocent children, raised in the ways of their parents and forced to grow up far too soon. That he understood- his father had been a bastard, caring more about his career than the two children he'd created with his wife. And his mother had raised him and Sarah alone- a single mother in all but true name. And soon... in little under eight months, he himself was going to be a father... to a beautiful little baby with Ziva's skin and eyes and swallowed; he could feel Ziva's eyes on him, but didn't lift his gaze from the photographs.

"They were so young."

"Of course they were. Children were not immune to Hitler's solution. They were not spared simply because they were innocent." He looked up to find Ziva making her way towards him. Gently, she took the photograph from his hands, studying it briefly before putting it down. Then, she inserted herself into his arms, sliding her own around his neck. "Now, go get dressed in fresh clothes, darling. I do not know about you, but I would like to explore our new city of residence, no matter how temporary it may be. And perhaps, we will discover exactly what the Zanes were searching for, hmm?" She gently tapped his chin, studying his features before leaning up and kissing him deeply.

After he finished getting dressed, he returned to the living area, to find Ziva waiting for him, dressed in a pair of jeans and a blouse, her hair down in wild curls that were only partially contained by a couple barrettes. She had a knapsack slung over her shoulder, the files they'd been looking over for the last hour tucked back into their envelopes and hidden within her bag. She wore a pair of comfortable tennis shoes, clearly intending to do a lot of walking today.

"I considered my cargo pants, but... I did not know if they would be something Ella Zane would wear." She admitted, a blush coming to her cheeks. He chuckled softly as he made his way towards her.

"I think Ella would have worn cargo pants on her days off." He replied, sliding his arms around her, remembering how she looked on the day they met- in those tan cargos and that light grey headscarf- it brought a soft grin to his face, and he reached up, sliding one hand into her hair, silently wishing she still wore that headscarf, for it made her look even more beautiful than she had in that emerald gown, nor the night they conceived. She met his gaze, a smile tugging at her lips. With a soft kiss, she whispered,

"Tomorrow, then, I will wear cargos. If only to see that creamy look on your face again, Tim."

"Dreamy." He corrected, kissing her softly before pulling away.

They soon left the hotel, forgoing a cab and choosing to walk, they wandered through downtown, taking in the sights as regular tourists would, until they came upon the Friedrichshain-Kreuzberg district. Ziva stood before the only remaining standing section of the infamous Berlin Wall, that had once separated East Berlin from West. She couldn't imagine being separated from her family by something as thick and sturdy as a wall- no, her walls were sand and sea, power and violence, and the stench of death-

But those walls wouldn't be there for long; not with this baby growing inside her. She would break all ties to her father and Mossad if it was the last thing she ever did, for she wouldn't allow her child to grow up surrounded by violence like she had been. Yes, this baby and Tim... they were her fresh start, her second chance at a loving family. "I have-" She stopped, glancing around, suddenly realizing that Tim wasn't beside her. "Tim? T-" She bit her lip. "Evan? Evan!" She turned to her right, to find her husband at another section of the wall further down. She hurried to catch up, surprised that she hadn't noticed him continue on. "Evan?"

He turned to her, hands in his pockets. "There you are, Ella. I thought you were right beside me." She took a deep breath, gathering her thoughts.

"What are you looking at?" She turned, her gaze following his. He nodded towards it.

"Do you think that was true for them?"

"What was true for who, Tim?" She asked, furrowing a brow.

"The Fromms. Not just for Adrian and Cora, but for their parents as well. They did all they could to help change the war, and yet... they have been wiped from history." Ziva stared at him for several minutes before turning to the graffiti on the wall-

"_Many small people, who in many small places, do many small things, can alter the face of the world._"


	43. Chapter 43

**Rifiuto: Non Miriena**

_"It is evil things we shall be fighting against, brute force, bad faith, injustice, oppression, and persecution."_

_- Neville Chamberlain (1869 - 1940), 59th Prime Minister of the United Kingdom__  
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Berlin, Germany

12:30 P.M.

_Having finished her work upstairs, Anneliese came downstairs, deciding that lunch would suite all four of them- if she could just get Zara to eat. She knew the girl didn't fully trust her; that she had lived a rotten, sickening, painful existence within the ghetto like so many Jews had, but she also knew that the girl was desperate for love, for a mother's touch and a father's kind smile. If she and Henrik could give that to her- to both of them- then maybe she-_

_"Are you three hungry? I was going to make-" The words died in her throat at the sight before her. She had reached they foyer and headed for the kitchen, only turning back to ask them if soup would be okay for lunch, and yet, what awaited her stole the breath from her lungs. She blinked, uncertain that what she was seeing was true. _

_The radio was playing, Margot Hielscher was singing of romance and longing for a soldier whom she might never see again; Eva was nowhere to be found- most likely in the kitchen, which had quickly become the child's favorite room in the house- and Adrian and Zara were waltzing gently in the living room. She was tucked tightly, protectively, against Adrian's body, her head resting against his shoulder, Adrian's hand wrapped around hers and held tightly against his chest. He brushed a soft kiss to her hair, before pulling away and looking down at her._

_Anneliese watched in silence, noticing how gentle her son was, how he pulled her just a little closer, tucked their hands a little tighter against his body; how the sudden stopping of the waltz had seemed to jar her from her contented state. Zara lifted her head from Adrian's shoulder, brow creasing in confusion. She caught his gaze, and her lips parted, her chest rising slightly as she took a breath to speak-_

_But anything she was about to say was halted as Adrian leaned down, his lips brushing hers gently. Momentarily, he pulled away, gauging her reaction, before releasing her hand and reaching up to take her face in his hand. He deepened the kiss, holding her against him, the kiss one long series of soft, tender kisses that slid into one another... eventually, Anneliese watched Zara reach up and wrap her small fingers around a fistful of her son's shirt, holding onto him as if he were a life preserver and she was caught in the middle of the Atlantic._

_She quickly turned her head, mentally kicking herself for having eavesdropped on her son. And yet, she had every right. He was her son... but he was also an adult- a young one, yes, but still, an adult- and therefore, awarded some form of privacy. She slowly moved from the foyer, going back upstairs and into the master bedroom, dropping slowly onto the edge of the bed. Instantly, a thousand questions began to race through her head. Had he slept with her? Kissed her before? Was this the real reason as to why he was so adamant about hiding the girls from the Nazis? No. She sent the last question flying from her mind._

_Adrian was as gentle and cautious as a newborn calf. He had learned early on that women were to be protected, loved... and growing up in Hitler's Germany had taught him to fear the slightest accusation, for the quickest of glances could cast the wrong impression and earn a bullet to the back of the head. No, he would never take advantage of Zara. She was eighteen, still very much a child, even if she acted and looked to be an adult. And yet... she had been forced to grow up far to soon, had witnessed death and destruction far too early. She sniffled, torn as to what to do-_

_"Why are you crying?" Her head snapped up; Eva stood before her, clutching tight to her doll. Her dark eyes were wide with concern, and after a moment, she made her way to the bed and climbed up to sit beside Anneliese. "I am sorry if we are a problem. Zahrah says that... maybe it would be better if we left, that way you would not get hurt." She reached up, small fingers gently brushing away the tears on her cheeks. Slowly, she sighed, shaking her head._

_"I am okay, Eva. I am just worried about my husband is all. He can be so daring, trying to do so much good, that he puts himself in danger. I'm okay, I promise." She reached up, patting the child's hand and giving her a small smile. "Now, are you hung-"_

_But the sound of the door opening downstairs caught her attention, and she jumped from the bed, rushing out of the room, Eva following. She prayed it wasn't the Gestapo, come for them, but when she reached the foyer, she found Cora standing in front of the now closed door, tears in her eyes. Out of the corner of her eye, Adrian and Zara joined her, holding tightly to each others' hands. "Corinna, what are you-"_

_"The Gestapo..." She choked out, letting her bag drop to the ground. "They... came to school and... took the principal and... six teachers... and... lined them... on the street during... Mathematics and... shot all of them... they said... because they were accused of... of harboring Jews..." Her knees gave out and Anneliese rushed to her daughter, catching her small body against hers. Cora clung to her, face buried in her shoulder, small body shaking. Anneliese held tight to her daughter, turning to her son._

_"Adrian, call the courthouse. Tell them your father needs to come home immediately. Say that Cora is sick, and we need to take her to hospital. Adrian!" Without another word, he did as told, rushing from the foyer to the kitchen where the phone was. they heard him quickly dial the number, followed by his conversation with the operator. Chava rushed to her sister, frightened by Cora's words, and as Anneliese turned her gaze to the sisters, she caught Zara's eye._

_Better if they left, so you do not get shook her head._

_No, they had promised these girls that they'd protect them, and that what they were going to do._

_No matter how bad things got beyond these four walls._


	44. Chapter 44

**Rifiuto: Non Miriena**

**A/N: Hey guys... I'm posting Z's chapter. She's not doing so well; hasn't left the bedroom since we got back from seeing our midwife. She's bleeding pretty badly, so I'm gonna post her chapters and then... I'm not sure what I'm gonna do after... Hold Z, if she'll let me.**

**Thanks to Reader for reviewing 37, 38, 39, 40, 41, 42 and 43.**

_"A good plan today is better than a perfect plan tomorrow."_

_-George S. Patton (1885 - 1945), General of the United States Army__  
><em>

_Berlin, Germany_

_National Archives_

_4:30 P.M._

They eventually found themselves at the National Archives, browsing through the old documents dating all the way back to the sixteen hundreds. So far though, they'd found a lot on the Holocaust since the Germans documented everything, but very little on the Fromms and even less on the Hirsch sisters. And what they had found on the Fromms, they already had thanks to Evan Zane. Ziva sighed, closing another drawer. They'd been at this for an hour and a half, and she was exhausted. Of course, that _could_ have been thanks to the baby, but still-

"You find anything, Zia?" She looked up as Tim made his way towards her, the bag over his shoulder. She shook her head.

"No. You?"

"The only thing I've found on the Fromms are Anneliese and Henrik's marriage license, a few newspaper articles on the destruction of the Jewish neighborhoods during the _Kristallnacht_-"

"The night of broken glass." Ziva whispered, reaching up and playing with her necklace. She remembered Nettie telling her stories about the night that the streets became littered with blood and bodies and star-like crystals of window glass. Her father's business had been destroyed, and they'd had to flee to France, only to be captured and eventually taken to Auschwitz years after that night.

"Right. And a few flyers from the White Rose." He dropped into the chair beside her, reaching up and rubbing his temples. He could feel a headache starting to form behind his eyes, and the incessant quiet was beginning to get to him. He wanted to go back to the hotel, lie down with a warm cloth over his eyes and stop thinking about the case, about who murdered the Zanes and how the Fromms and Hirsches all fit together.

"So... we have nothing." He turned to her, drinking her in. And it looked like Ziva felt the same way.

"How're you doing, you okay?" She nodded, catching his hand as he reached up to brush his fingers against her cheek. She didn't like the dark circles under his eyes, or how he seemed to turn from her, as though the sound of his own voice plucked painfully at every portion of his brain. He didn't look well. Perhaps he was exhausted, or maybe... she shook her head, but couldn't help entertaining the thought anyway... maybe he was experiencing a phantom pregnancy. She'd read that it was common for fathers to have the same experiences as the mother, just on a smaller scale-

"Just tired is all, Evan." She whispered, pressing a firm kiss to his palm. "Are you okay?" He nodded. "You do not look well."

"Yeah, I... I'm fine. Just... just have a headache. Could be because I haven't eaten anything. Just had coffee." He gave her a small smile. "So, what do you say, Ella?" He sighed. "You ready?" She nodded once, gathering her things before allowing him to help her up.

"Come on, let's get out of here and get something to eat. We both need it." They stood and, taking hands, headed for the door, their search coming up empty, when a voice stopped them.

"You are looking for the Fromms?" The couple shared a look, before slowly turning back; the man that made his way towards them from within the shelves of the archives was short, with white hair and a slight limp. The cane he used looked barely able to hold his weight, but it did. He wore a nice suit, and his English was heavily accented; clearly, a native German. Tim nodded. "You will not find Fromms in the Archives."

"Yeah, we... we figured that. But thanks for telling us." They turned to go, continuing towards the doors. However, Tim kept glancing back, and eventually, he stopped, just feet from the doorway. Ziva moved to push it open, but Tim tugged her back. She sighed, turning.

"What is it? What is wrong?" He glanced at her, shaking his head.

"Nothing." As he moved to follow her, he stopped, turning back. The man was talking to someone, but when they locked eyes, Tim caught his breath. He felt as if he _knew_ those eyes, _knew that man_, though clearly, he had lived long before Tim was even thought of. "Stay here, Zia. I'll be right back."

And without another word, he let go of her hand, making his way back to the man, who by then had finished his conversation. "Who are you? What's your name?"

"You first, young man." He swallowed, considering. Should he tell him his true name, and the reason he was searching for the Fromms, or lie and use his 'alternate persona,' as Ziva called the Zanes?

"... Evan Zane." He turned as Ziva came up behind him, sliding her hand into his. "And this is my wife, Ella." The older man nodded.

"I am Conrad Bletcher." The man then tapped his chest with a gnarled finger. "I knew Fromms. My father worked with Henrik."

"Your father worked... worked with Henrik Fromm?" Ziva asked, stepping forward. The older man nodded. "Then you _must_ know what happened to them." He studied her, old grey eyes drinking deeply in the beauty before him, and he sighed.

"I know what history records- Henrik and Anneliese died in forty-five. Children never found." Tim nodded, trying desperately to hide his disappointment. For a few brief moments, he thought their search was actually going somewhere.

"Well, thanks anyway." He glanced at Ziva, before squeezing her hand and allowing her to tug him towards the door-

"I knew Henrik and Anneliese before forty-five, before war began, and Hitler rose to power." Slowly, the pair turned back.

"How?" Tim asked, narrowing his eyes. The man chuckled.

"Because, I was next door neighbor; was Adrian's best friend. "


	45. Chapter 45

**Rifiuto: Non Miriena**

**A/N: Hey guys. Just got off the phone with our midwife... she said it's normal with a miscarriage for the bleeding to be this heavy the first day or so... I'm just worried because Z won't _talk_ to me... and we can always talk about... anything and everything...**

_"Force is the only language they understand, like bullies."_

_- Franklin Delano Roosevelt (1882 - 1945), 32nd President of the United States__  
><em>

Berlin, Germany

1:30 P.M.

_He dashed up the steps; Adrian's message that something was wrong with Cora ringing loudly in his head. Work had been slow- because power was still out at the courthouse- thanks to the war, it took forever for things to be fixed- and trials could not be conducted in the dark, he and his colleagues had gone downstairs to the basement to work on pamphlets and leaflets to be distributed. Until he'd gotten Adrian's call. "Anneliese! What's happened with Corinna? Anneliese!"_

_The door banged against the far wall before he grabbed the handle and sent it back towards the open door frame. "Henrik. Shh." He looked up in time to see his wife make her way towards him. "The children are in the living room, leave them be."_

_"I... I got a call from Adrian... he said Corinna was hurt... that she needed to go to the hospital..."_

_"She's okay." His wife replied, reaching out and resting her hands on his shoulders._

_"She is?" She nodded. "Oh, thank God." He pulled her into his arms, relief flooding through him, but after a moment, he pulled away. "Then... why did Adrian call? If Cora's not sick, then-"_

_"Father!" The couple broke apart as the girl in question rushed to him. Before he could ask, the girl had thrown herself into his arms; normally, she'd be scolded for such behavior, but after what she'd just witnessed, everyone chose to let it go just this once. He stumbled back, as his daughter buried her face in his shoulder and promptly broke down._

_"Cora... what..." A moment passed before he gently pushed the child away to look into her eyes. "Cora, what... you are supposed to be in school..."_

_"That's why I came home, Father... Gestapo came... shot the... p... principal and... six tea... teach..." She choked on a sob. "Shot them because... because..." The child stopped, fully breaking down now and burying her face in her father's shoulder. Henrik looked up, finding Adrian and the two girls they were hiding in the entrance to the living room, watching._

_"They shot them under suspicion of harboring Jews." Adrian whispered. Then, he took Zara's hand and pulled her closer as she reached up to brush the tears off her cheeks. Without a word, he took the girls back into the living room. Henrik watched, unsure of what to think of the sight of his son's arm around the young Jewess's waist, or the way he seemed to pull her closer as they stood before the fire, talking softly. Instead, he turned to Anneliese. "Anneli-"_

_But his wife shook her head, telling him to remain silent. Then, she gently pulled Cora away and led her upstairs so she could clean the girl up. Once gone, Henrik glanced towards the living room, and then, after a moment, turned and headed into the kitchen. He poured a cup of coffee, but didn't touch it. Instead, he leaned against the counter, letting Cora and Adrian's words wash over him. "You okay?" He looked up; Adrian leaned against the doorway, hands in his pockets, watching him silently._

_"Yes. I... I'm fine." He picked up the cup and went to the table, taking a seat. A moment passed before Adrian entered and poured himself a cup, slipping into the chair across from him. Henrik studied his son, and the image of him- he quickly shook it away, taking a deep breath. "How are the girls doing?" Adrian met his gaze. He glanced towards the doorway, his eyes seeing something- or someone- beyond the kitchen._

_"They're scared. Zara's worried we'll get caught."_

_"I don't blame them. Hearing that seven people have just been executed for possibly harboring Jews... Hell, it scares me." His son nodded, silent. He watched him, wondering how exactly to broach the subject his wife had ignored. "Adrian," The younger man looked up at him as he took a deep breath, gathering his words carefully. "You do know that Zara is eighteen." _

_"Of course I do." He studied the older man carefully. "Where are you going with this, Father?" Henrik sighed, subconsciously twisting his wedding ring. Adrian watched the action, eyes glued to the gold band on his father's finger. "I want to know that you won't hurt her. Clearly she's already been hurt enough-"_

_"Why would I hurt her? I have no reason to, and every reason to protect her." The younger man furrowed a brow._

_"You have only known her a few weeks; you know very little about her-"_

_"I know that she's been hurt, and that she and her sister have suffered greatly at the hands of Hitler's police, and that they need protecting." Henrik swallowed thickly; he recognized the look in his son's eyes- it was the same look he knew he wore when he met Anneliese. One he had prayed wouldn't afflict his son at such a young age. One that sprang out of love and passion and that unexpected first meeting. It was the look Adrian had worn from the moment he met the girls, most likely, if not from the moment he and Anneliese had been introduced to them. "And I know that she's just looking for someone to love her and protect her, and care about her and her sister, because those that did are gone."_

_"Adrian, you need to understand that people are more complicated than-"_

_"I understand just fine."_

_"I don't think you do, son." The younger man narrowed; he slammed his hands on the table as he stood, leaning towards the older man._

_"I am not in love with her, if that's what you're implying, Father." Then, without another word, he left the kitchen. Henrik swallowed, closing his eyes with a sigh. Of all the days.. nearly getting caught in the basement at work... and when he arrives home... first Cora and now this..._

_He shook his head, exhausted and defeated by the day's events. "Not yet, Adrian. You are not in love with her yet. But I know you. You will get there. And it won't take long."_


	46. Chapter 46

**Rifiuto: Non Miriena**

**A/N: Hey guys, it's Ev. Our midwife stopped by this afternoon to check on her- Z's still bleeding, but not as heavily- and she informed us that the bleeding will probably continue for another day or two; when she started explaining that it was her body expelling... **

**I'm sorry guys. I can't do this right now. Here's the next chapter and the next few will be up later.**

**Thanks to ladyd10 for reviewing 20, and Reader for reviewing 44 and 45.**

_"Today we are crushed by the sheer weight of the mechanized forces hurled against us, but we can still look to the future in which even greater mechanized forces will bring us victory. Therein lies the destiny of the world."_

_- Charles de Gaulle (1890 - 1970), French General__  
><em>

_Berlin, Germany_

_1900 Cafe Bistro_

_5:30 P.M._

They sat across from Conrad, having decided they'd get a late lunch before returning home. He had talked about growing up in Hitler's Berlin, told them stories of the trouble he and Adrian had gotten into as children. And maybe, just maybe, find out a little more about the siblings and the two girls that had brought about the Zanes' deaths. As soon as they'd heard that he had known the Fromms- specifically Adrian and his sister- they'd asked if he'd join them to get something to eat. So now they sat in a small booth in the 1900 Cafe Bistro, talking over sandwiches and coffee. After a few minutes of awkward silence, Tim finally broke the silence, asking if he'd lived in Berlin his entire life; it had seemed to relax the older man, who'd given him a small smile.

Now, they sat explaining over coffee why they were interested in the Fromms- and wanting to know how the Hirsch sisters were connected to everything. Conrad sat back, watching the young couple for a moment, before gave them a small smile. "You look much like Adrian." Tim met his gaze, before glancing at Ziva. He cocked his head.

"I... I've seen the photographs of him..." He pulled out the file they'd collected and after a quick search, found the photocopy of the Fromm siblings, sliding it across the table towards Conrad. "But..." The older man smiled.

"You have seen resemblance." Conrad turned his gaze down to the photograph. His old friend- his childhood friend, his_ best_ friend- stared back at him, eyes piercing into his soul. "_Ja_. You see resemblance." Gently, he ran a gnarled finger over Adrian's features. Adrian and Cora... His best friend and adopted kid sister ... forever young, and yet, forever lost to history. And while history recorded their parents' minor activities against the Third Reich... no one knew the true story of the sacrifices these two siblings had made, of the lives they'd touched and tried so desperately to change, protect and save. Nowadays, no one even knew their names.

"Can you tell us? About them- Adrian and Corinna? What were they like, growing up?" Conrad met Tim's gaze, and while his eyes locked on the young man that seemed to be a carbon copy of Adrian, his mind had vanished, fleeing into the currents of his memories, carrying him back to those days of early propaganda, of yellow stars and the green uniforms of the Nazi Youth; for all young Germans were required to join to Nazi Youth in the early thirties. He sighed.

"The Fromms... moved into sixteen-thirty _Leipziger Straße_ in twenty, and Adrian was born in twenty-three, year younger than me. We moved to _Leipziger Straße_ in twenty-four; _Frau_ Fromm came over to welcome us to the neighborhood, brought Adrian. Toddlers, both of us. Best friends since." He chuckled softly. "Adrian strong, stood up for his ideals. He went to University... Munich in 'forty-one..."

"We know. He... joined the White Rose." Tim replied, sipping his coffee. "And when the Scholls were captured, he fled back to Berlin, escaping capture."

The older man nodded. "I know. Came to me first. Told me what happened to_die Weiße Rose _and about Sophie and Hans's capture. Kept insisting he should have stayed instead of returned..." The couple watched as he seemed to return to that day so very long ago when his best friend had returned to Berlin, barely escaping Munich with his life.

_"I should have stayed, Con. It should not just be Sophie and Hans facing the guillotine,but me as well. I am just as responsible as they are." _

Conrad sighed. "I told him he could do more good out than inside Nazi death chamber. 'Not good enough' he says. 'Never good enough.' From childhood, Adrian always tried to do right thing. Always. And he did. He did right thing, as long as he could."

Ziva bit her lip, reaching out and sliding her hand into Tim's on the table. Conrad watched the two, a small smile on his face. He doubted either realized how much they looked like-

"What did he do, _Herr._ Bletcher?" Ziva asked. He sighed. How did he go about telling them this? How did he explain to this young couple the lengths a young man- no, a family, really- went to save innocent lives? What did he tell them? There was no way he couple possibly explain the atrocities suffered had they gotten caught... nor the countless times they had come so close to losing their lives. And how did he even begin to explain the sacrifice Corinna had made for her brother?

And then there was the young woman who sat across from him. How did he explain to her that she looked exactly like a young woman he knew, if only for a brief time? He took a deep breath, his voice soft,

"Adrian and Corinna... and their parents... hid Jews. For about a year, they hid two Jews in their house. Sisters. Chava and Zara-"

"Hirsch." Ziva breathed. He nodded, not at all surprised that she knew of whom he was talking about.

"You look like Zara. Very much like Zara." Ziva remained quiet, though she was sure her surprise showed on her face. She had never considered it. When lunch ended and they parted ways, he spoke up, stopping the couple.

"Couples have a habit of finding each other. Somehow, someway, if a couple is meant to be, they will find each other- no matter years. They will find way back- does not matter if they are dead or not yet born. If meant to be, nothing will stop them."

Then, he nodded to both and turned, disappearing down the sidewalk and into the crowd, not having noticed the shocked looks the couple wore.


	47. Chapter 47

**Rifiuto: Non Miriena**

**A/N: Hey everyone. Here's the next chapter... sorry guys, it was a rough night... and a rough day... and if it wasn't for the fact that it's Thanksgiving, we'd spend the day at home, but unfortunately, we're spending it at my parents' house... I'm dreading telling them the news... especially since they didn't even know about the baby... we were going to tell them once we were out of the woods, but... now that's not necessary. I only hope that maybe seeing my older sister will pull Z out of her shell. She's always loved Licia, and Licia adores her... plus she knows what we've gone through... she and her husband went through it themselves a few years ago... and now they have two beautiful little girls... maybe Licia will be able to get Z to open up... that's all I want right now, is for her to talk... I don't care to who... just... just to someone...**

**Thanks to Reader for reviewing 46. **

_"What matters is the quality of a person. What someone is inside themselves."_

_- Marie Teresa Mirabal (1935 - 1960), Dominican Republic Activist & National Martyr__  
><em>

Berlin, Germany

3:00 P.M.

_The bedroom door slammed, causing everyone else in the house to jump. Eva had gone with Mrs. Fromm and Cora to her bedroom; the child clung to his sister like a third limb, of which Adrian was grateful for. Cora could get awful lonely at times, and so having Eva around gave the older girl someone to talk to that was closer to her age- for Cora was intimidated by Zara, if not a little frightened of her._

_He looked up to see Zara sitting on the bed, something in her hands. As he stepped closer, he realized it was one of the leaflets he'd printed from Christophe's draft. She was silent for a moment, before asking,_

_"You wrote this?" Though her German was broken, she remembered enough of the language to read the leaflet in her grasp. He met her gaze, shrugging. "Why?"_

_"My friend wrote that. He... he died." She watched him as he made his way towards her, taking a seat on the bed next to her. He shifted to face her better, their knees brushing. "He was... captured distributing leaflets at University and... found guilty of treason and... beheaded." She grasped, covering her face with her hands, the leaflet fluttering to the floor at her feet. After a moment, Adrian knelt down and picked up the leaflet. He shrugged, reading Christophe's words. "We were... part of a resistance group at University... protesting Hitler's treatment of the Jews."_

_"You... you fought... for us? For... for Jews?" Adrian nodded, reaching up and brushing the tears off her cheeks. _

_"Yes." _

_"But... why? We are nothing to you." _

_"You're people." He whispered, reaching out and taking her hand. "Your lives are valued just as much as ours are."_

_She pulled away, moving away from him. "But... I am nothing to you." He moved closer, reaching up and gently cradling her face in his hand. He searched her eyes, silent, before finally finding what he was looking for._

_"You are everything to me." Their lips met in a soft kiss; he pulled her closer, threading his fingers into her hair, loosening it from the messy bun she'd placed it in that morning once they'd been allowed out of the wall. Adrian had slipped into the bathroom at one point to grab his toothbrush before slipping out of the room, and the sight of Zara winding her hair into a loose bun at the back of her head had stopped him- her fingers moved through the dark strands, that, somehow, still remained soft and smooth despite the chaos she'd survived. At one point, she'd looked up, catching his gaze in the mirror, before ducking her head and excusing herself from the room._

_Slowly, she slid one hand up his chest to grasp at his shirt, fingers tangling in the soft material. His other arm slid around her waist, pulling her closer-_

_A knock at the door forced them apart, and after a moment, Adrian turned to his door; he then realized that it was coming from the front door, and yet, he heard no one answering it. A quick glance at Zara told him the fear in her eyes, and he gave her a soft smile. "It's okay. The Gestapo would not knock on the door of someone they suspected of hiding Jews." He pulled her into him, kissing her firmly before getting up and slipping out of the room. After a moment, Zara followed, curiosity getting the better of her._

_Adrian made his way downstairs, surprised that no else had answered the door, and after quickly looking through the curtains over the door's windows, he pulled it open, noticing Zara out of the corner of his eye. Quickly, he wedged himself between the door and the frame, making sure she was hidden. "Conrad! What... what are you doing here?"_

_"Hey Ad. Um..." The other man- Conrad Bletcher, the Fromms' next door neighbor and Adrian's best friend- tried to crane his neck to see exactly what his friend was hiding. With his wheat blonde locks and bright blue eyes, Conrad had all the girls turning heads, and yet, he'd managed to capture Cora's heart. It was a well-known joke between the boys that Cora was looking to marry her brother's best friend- and had been since she was four. "I was... wondering if you... wanted to go for coffee... what are you hiding?" He reached for the door, as Adrian glanced over his shoulder at Zara, ordering her silently to go back upstairs, but the girl was too curious to heed the demand for her own safety._

_"Nothing! Cor... Cora's just... just trying to get my attention about something-"_

_"I don't hear anything."_

_"Oh." The older boy watched as his friend seemed to think before glancing behind him again. "That's because she's sick."_

_"Oh, I'm sorry. Is she okay?" He reached for the door again, concerned about the girl he often teased._

_"She'll be okay." Adrian replied, tightening his grip on the door. He then glanced back at Zara. "Go back up to bed, Cora. You know Mother doesn't want you up and about while you're sick." When Zara refused, and stepped closer, he dug his heels in. "Go, Cora! The last thing we need is you exposing everyone else to your sickness." He ground out, nodding towards the stairs. After a moment, Zara made her way back to the stairs."So, coffee?" He grabbed his coat off the rack and then yanked it out the door, slamming it shut behind him, leaving Zara watching from the stairs._


	48. Chapter 48

**Rifiuto: Non Miriena**

**A/N: Why are you in such a mood, Evan? First you get upset because I'm not talking to you, and now you're upset because I was talking to Licia! Make up your fucking mind! **

**~ It's not- Did you ever consider that the baby you lost was _my_ baby _too_? I understand that Licia's gone through this before, but did you ever consider that maybe I wanted to talk to you? That maybe we should work through this _together_? Bug was my child too, not_ just yours_! And you've been shutting me out!**

**What, did you want me to explain what I was going through? Explain what it felt like to feel our baby dying inside me? Is that what you wanted, Evan?**

**~ What I want is to be able to be there for you and help you through this! And instead, you just shut me out!**

**I went to you first! And you wouldn't talk to me! Why do you think I went to Licia?**

**~ You should have come to me first!**

**I did come to you! **

**~ I'm your boyfriend! _That was my child too_! **

**I... I can't deal with this right now!**

**~ Z-**

**No, just... just _leave me alone!_ *storms off to room and slams and locks the door***

**~ She's been through a lot... you _have_ to remember that... **

**Thanks to Reader for reviewing 47.**

_"They sowed the wind, and now they are going to reap the whirlwind."_

_- Sir Arthur Travis Harris (1892 - 1984), Marshal of the British Royal Air Force _

_Berlin, Germany_

_Scandic Berlin Potsdamer Platz Hotel_

_6:00 P.M._

"I have a feeling Conrad Bletcher wasn't telling us everything." Tim murmured, taking a seat beside Ziva on the sofa; the evidence they'd gathered laid out before them. Ziva curled into his side; silently, she tugged the arm he slid around her waist until his hand splayed across her belly. She met his gaze, reaching out to gently caress his face. He caught hand, pressing a kiss to her palm. She studied him, her dark gaze moving over his features. A moment passed before he pulled away and turned to the information before them. He's managed to take notes on what the older man had said, and now grabbed the notepad studying them.

"So... he knew the Fromms before nineteen-forty-five." Ziva whispered, grabbing her cup from the table and taking a sip, the herbal tea warm as it slid down her throat. He leaned forward, placing the notes at the beginning of their chronology.

"I mean... he told us a lot about their childhoods, but rarely mentioned what happened to them or how the Hirsch sisters fit into the equation." A moment passed before he glanced at the clock. "And it's too late to get a hold of him." The older man had given them his contact information in case they had any more questions in regards to Adrian and Corinna Fromm, and Tim planned on contacting him as soon as possible. "There are so many pieces to this puzzle and yet... none of them fit together."

Ziva scooted closer to him, linking her arm through his. She studied the papers in silence, before getting up and gathering the files together. "Come on." Tim watched her as she held out a hand.

"Zia, what are you-" But before he could finish, Ziva had moved towards the entertainment center, taking a seat on the floor and began laying the papers out before her. A moment passed before she looked up. Without a word, she patted the space beside her.

"Tim, sit." He watched her, considering that the pregnancy had made her lose her mind, but after a moment, got up and joined her.

"Okay, I'll bite, what-" She turned to him, eyebrows raised.

"What would you bite? And... why?" He stared at her, before shaking his head.

"It's an expression, Zia." She nodded, turning back to the files. "So... what are you doing?"

"Well, in Mossad, when there is a difficult investigation," She began, quickly skimming various files before placing them in certain piles on certain sides, "we are taught," She quickly and quietly read through a file on the Hirsch sisters, before placing it in a small pile at the top of the four-piled diamond in the middle of the carpet. "that to often see the big picture of the puzzle," She glanced at him as he got up, fixing a couple cups of hot tea. A small smile graced her lips as he returned, setting one in front of her. "you have to often start at what you know to fill in the edges around before you can start on the middle."

He raised an eyebrow. "Um... I'm sorry... what?" Ziva turned to him, narrowing her gaze.

"In other words, sometimes you have to look at what you do not have, in order to figure out where what you do have fits."

"Okay, but... what does that have to do with this case? We don't have _anything_ that happened in the middle-"

"Which is why we have to look at what was going on at the time, in order to determine the best scenario in regards to what happened with the Fromms and Hirsch sisters." She crossed her legs, shifting to face him. "Okay, so we know that the time, the world was at war, _ken_? And that the time of which the Fromm siblings and the Hirsch sisters may have crossed paths was about... nineteen-forty-three or forty-four."

He nodded, picking up his cup and taking a sip. "So... if we can figure out the historical context in which the Fromms and Hirsches were living, we can fill in the blanks as we find the clues." He glanced at Ziva, hoping he was making the right connections. She grinned. "America had already entered the war by January forty-two-

"And Germany had pretty much taken over all of Europe by that time." She added.

Without another word, Tim looped his arms around Ziva and pulled her into his lap. As they began working through Ziva's theory, he pressed a kiss to her cheek,

"You are brilliant, Zia."


	49. Chapter 49

**Rifiuto: Non Miriena**

**A/N: Z, baby, please. Talk to me. *sinks to floor on the other side of bedroom door* Z, I'm sorry. I just... Bug was my child, too. You aren't the only one that lost a child, I lost one too. Z, please, don't shut me out... If you need me... know that I love you, this doesn't changed that...**

_"Never in the field of human conflict has so much been owed by so many to so few."_

_- Winston Churchill (1874 - 1965), 60th Prime Minister of the United Kingdom_

Berlin, Germany

4:30 P.M.

_"So... let me get this straight... you spent your time at University printing and distributing leaflets?"_

_Adrian nodded. The two young men were heading back to his place after spending an hour and a half at the cafe down the street. They'd caught up, telling each other of the goings-on in the other parts of Germany during the war; and no matter how Conrad pushed, Adrian refused to reveal whatever he'd been hiding earlier. But that wasn't on his mind as he led his best friend up the steps and into the brick townhouse his family owned._

_The two boys were so caught up in their conversation, that they didn't notice the young woman leaning against the window in the living room as they entered the house, peeking through the window to catch a glimpse of the outside she so longed to be a part of. "We... as strange as this seems, we were doing good, Con. All of us were-" He led his friend into the kitchen, pouring two cups of coffee before leading him into living room. They then settled on the sofa in the living room in front of the window, still engaged in their conversation, although the sight of something moving behind him caused Adrian to turn, eyes widening in shock. "Um... may... maybe we should go into the kit-"_

_But before he could finish, footsteps bounded downstairs, and Cora came careening into the living room. Instantly, Conrad's attention was drawn from his friend to the sixteen-year-old, who flung herself at him with an excited cry. Fortunately, Cora's distraction gave Adrian enough time to lift Zara from behind the sofa and walk her behind him, back towards the foyer and the stairs that led to his room. "My God, you've grown so much, Corinna! Say it isn't so!" Conrad stood, wrapping the girl in a hug before something dawned on him. "Wait... Ad said that you were sick, and that he didn't want me catching whatever you had-"_

_Her brother stopped, back to the foyer; behind him, Zara tried to peek around him to see this new stranger, but Adrian kept cautiously pushing her back. "Sick? No, why would I be sick? I came home from school, yes, but that's because..." She stopped. "Bad things happened to the teachers today." The girl bit her lip, glancing at her brother, brow furrowing. She then turned to Conrad. "And.. why wouldn't he want you to come inside? Unless... oh!"Adrian's eyes widened in shock, and he shook his head at her, silently mouthing orders to her that she keep her mouth shut. "Unless Adrian didn't want you to see Zara and Eva."_

_Conrad turned to his best friend. "Zara and... Eva?" It took a few minutes for Adrian to think of something to say before he moved away from the doorway._

_"They're Cora's... imaginary friends that... live in the walls." He replied, going to his sister after making sure Zara had disappeared into the shadows of the foyer. "We've tried to get her to stop playing with imaginary friends, but... she's too imaginative to completely forget them. Right, Cora?" He asked, grabbing his sister's arm. The teenager looked at him._

_"But Brother, I don't have any imaginary friends. Zara and Eva aren't imaginary. Why do you keep saying they're imaginary? They're real. You've kissed Zara. And if Father ever caught you kissing a Jewish girl like Zara-"_

_"Jewish girl?" Both turned to Conrad, who stepped closer, eyes wide with a mixture of curiosity and shock. Adrian grit his teeth, tightening his grip on his sister's arm._

_"Verdammt, Cora! Can't you ever keep your mouth shut?" The girl studied her brother, confused as to why he was so upset._

_"Why are you so angry, Brother? Don't you like having Zara and Eva stay with us?"_

_"Um... excuse me." The siblings turned to Conrad, who was now thoroughly confused. "But who is Eva? And... who's Zara?"_

_"I... I am Zara." All three turned as the owner of the voice stepped into the room, twisting her fingers together out of nervousness. Her dark eyes darted from the siblings to the stranger in the living room, whose eyes had widened even further. She shrank into herself, suddenly regretting making herself known, despite the curiosity that tugged at her. Although when she looked at the stranger now, she realized he was about Adrian's age, maybe a little older, with golden wheat hair and eyes as blue as the sky now forbidden to her. He was slender, like Adrian, and maybe a little taller._

_Quickly, Adrian let go of Cora and rushed to her, taking her arms in his grasp. "I told you to go upstairs, where it was safer."_

_She met his gaze. "But... I... I was curious... I wanted to see what your friend looked like-_

_"Zara, the last thing we need is you getting caught. If anyone sees you, we could all be sent to the camps-"_

_"I won't tell." The couple turned back to Conrad, who wore a glimmer of mischief in his blue eyes as he studied the pair. Adrian narrowed his eyes._

_"Con, what are you thinking?" The older boy shrugged, stuffing his hands in his pockets._

_"I won't tell that you're hiding Jews."_

_"What's the catch?" Adrian pulled Zara closer, not trusting his best friend for the first time in his life. "Con, I swear, if you go to the Gestapo, I'll kill you myself-"_

_"I'm not going to the Gestapo, Ad." He shrugged, glancing back at Cora before turning back to his best friend. He bit his lip. "Because my family is hiding Jews, too."_


	50. Chapter 50

**Rifiuto: Non Miriena**

_"Our losses... have reached an intolerable level."_

_- Karl Dönitz (1891- 1980), Grand Admiral of the German Navy_

_Berlin, Germany_

_Black Cat Cafe_

_6:00 A.M._

Tim sighed; he'd slipped out of bed, pressing a kiss to Ziva's cheek and leaving a note for her on the nightstand before getting dressed and slipping out of their hotel room. After Ziva had gone to bed the night before, Tim had called Conrad, asking to meet him at a small cafe a few blocks from the hotel he and Ziva had passed on their exploring the day before. He had a few more questions that needed answers; despite them using Ziva's Mossad method, they'd still come up empty on several pieces of the puzzle.

And now he sat in a booth near the back of the cafe, waiting for the older man to arrive- it had been Conrad that had suggested the time, saying that he was always up at four, and that it wouldn't take him very long to get dressed and be down there by six, since he didn't live very far. But now, as Tim checked his cell again, he began to wonder why the hell he'd argeed to this meeting.

They didn't know the man; for all they knew, he could be spinning an intricate web of lies that would get them in trouble with the German authorities-

The door opened and he looked up as the older man in question entered and made his way over to the table, something held tight in his grasp. As he took a seat, he set whatever he carried on the table. "I apologize for being late, I had to bring something you need see."Once their coffee was brought, Tim's gaze moved to the leather folio on the table. Conrad chuckled. "Curiosity getting you, Mr. Zane?" The older man asked with a grin. Tim met his gaze, and for a moment, he could have sworn he'd seen that grin before- on the same man, just... years younger.

"What's in it?" He asked, unable to restrain the interest in his vocal chords. Another soft chuckle escaped the older man's throat.

"You want more about Fromms?" Tim took a deep breath, never taking his gaze off the leather folio.

"No. I want more on the Hirsches."

"Ah, problem is," Conrad began, reaching for the folio and opening it. "in order to understand Hirsches, must understand Fromms first."

"You said you knew the Fromms. Did you know the Hirsch sisters, too?" But Conrad didn't speak, instead, he moved his cup to the far side of the table, and then pulled a few papers from the folio, laying them out before Tim. "You said the Fromms hid two Jews. That they hid the Hirsch girls. Is that the connection? That's the connection between Adrian and Zara. He was hiding her and her sister, wasn't he?"

"One young man's sacrifice, turn into whole family's." Conrad replied, as he finished laying out what he'd brought- it was then that Tim saw what he had.

Photographs, leaflets, essays, drawings, letters... countless things that were at times so aged and brittle, they belonged beneath protective glass in a museum.

After a moment, he reached out, but stopped himself. Conrad noticed, and gently removed something from the countless papers, holding it out. Glancing at the older man, Tim took what he held, but not before pulling out his phone and hitting the record button. The older man chuckled, realizing that he wanted oral stories- an oral history- of that time, and he didn't blame him. He was glad the young man was thinking ahead, for he would not be here much longer, and wanted someone- even an American in Berlin on business- to know the stories he was about to tell. Once the phone was recording, he began, referencing the photograph Tim now held gingerly.

"Two years separate them. Does not matter, not then. What matter, that he was not Jewish, and she not Gentile." Tim's gaze moved to the photograph.

It was a candid shot, taken with an old, handheld brownie-type of Kodak camera popular in the forties. In the image, the couple were sitting on the floor in front of the fireplace, sharing a blanket. The pair were talking quietly together, despite the celebration or whatever it was going on around them. He had his arm around her waist, holding her close; their gazes locked together, oblivious to any and all around them.

"Taken at Corinna's seventeenth birthday. Small party. Just family and my family. Despite ration shortages, Mother and_ Frau_ Fromm managed to make small cake for her. Was happy with just that."

Tim nodded, unable to take his gaze off the pair. They looked exactly like Ziva and himself-

"But," He tore his gaze from the photograph, finally meeting Conrad's eyes. "you said they were... two years apart? So she was... eighteen and he was twenty."

"_Ja_. Does not matter to Adrian. Or Zara, eventually. Age does not matter when time run short in wartime."

"They were..." Tim glanced at the older man, and Conrad nodded. "But... what about his parents? Surely they didn't approve that their son was..."

"At first, no. Not approve. But when realize time short, they left them to be." He sighed. "But those that hide Jews... can only hide for so long."

"You speak from experience." He whispered, studying the older man. After a moment, Conrad rolled up his shirt sleeve, exposing the familiar tattoo of Holocaust survivors, forever staining the skin of his arm. Despite the years that had ravaged the older man's body, the skin beneath the numbers was still smooth and flawless as silk. "You hid Jews."

"Four children, under age twelve. Hid in the closets and beneath the floorboards of home." The older man seemed to fade into the past as he spoke, his gaze moving to the photograph lying before Tim. "Adrian discover I hide Jews same day I meet Zara and Eva. From moment on, we decide to help each other keep hidden. And then... I return from market one day... parents and children gone... rushed to Adrian and Corinna..." He sighed. "And then... they came."

"The Gestapo." Conrad nodded.

"_Ja_. Destroyed so many lives."

Tim opened his mouth to ask another question when his phone rang. He checked it, not at all surprised to find Ziva calling."_Entschuldigung_." Conrad nodded, giving the young man a small smile at his faltering German. Quickly, Tim stood, slipping out of the cafe to answer."Hey, love. Um... listen. I... I think know the connection between Adrian and Zara..." He glanced through the window of the cafe, back towards Conrad, who sat gazing at a photograph of him and Cora with tears in his eyes. "They..." He took a deep breath. "Not only was Adrian and his family hiding the Hirsch girls, but... but he and Zara... Ziva, they were_in love_."


	51. Chapter 51

**Rifiuto: Non Miriena**

**A/N: Pay close attention to the ring... **

_"Somebody, after all, had to make a start. What we wrote and said is also believed by many others. They just don't dare express themselves as we did."_

_- Sophie Scholl (1921 - 1943), One of the Core Members of the White Rose Resistance at Munich University_

Berlin, Germany

Many Weeks Later

Corinna's Birthday

7:15 P.M.

_Needless to say, Adrian was upset when Conrad revealed that his family, too, were hiding Jews- four Jewish children who had managed to escape the Łódź ghetto- four Jewish children also from Poland, as Zara and Eva were. And, needless to say, that Adrian didn't speak to Conrad for a week, before finally accepting that maybe his friend had as good a reason as his family had. Since the revelations, both families had decided to help each other in protecting those they looked on as "their Jews"- the six young lives that could very well end were it not for their help. _

_It was early August, however, and this particular day one of celebration- for Cora was turning seventeen._

_The girl relished the attention, though she stuck close to Conrad, who didn't mind the teenager constantly following him around; it was her birthday, after all. After a nice dinner with all in attendance- Jew and Gentile alike- they'd surprised Cora with a small cake her mother and Frau Bletcher had made. Over cake and coffee, the girl had accepted her few gifts- each special and treasured because of whom had given them to her._

_So far, she'd received a journal from her parents, a book of German fairy tales from Frau and Herr Bletcher and a couple hair ribbons from Eva that the girl had snuck into her knapsack before they left the ghetto. The four Jewish children the Bletchers were hiding- siblings- all gave her drawings they'd made, which Cora had immediately placed for safe keeping in her journal. Zara had given her a beautifully sewn scarf she'd made on the nights when she couldn't sleep within the wall, and Adrian had given her small silver ring with a silver lily handcrafted atop it that he'd found in a pawn shop in Munich, back when he was at University. Cora had loved it, bursting into tears when she saw it, and exclaiming that her brother had to take it back- to which he explained where it had come from._

_When the small party finished and Herr and Frau Bletcher took the children back to their house with whispered promises that they'd call the Fromms once the children were safe beneath the floorboards- despite living right next door, for one couldn't know who was lurking about, searching for Jews- only Conrad stayed behind. _

_Currently, he and Cora sat talking on the sofa, snapping photographs of whatever caught their eye. Her parents were in the kitchen; Eva was helping to clean the dishes, listening to them explain their love story, and Zara sat in front of the fire, arms wrapped around her knees as she stared into the flames. Cora looked up as Adrian entered, a blanket and two cups of coffee in his hands. He went to his sister, pressing a soft kiss to her head, before joining Zara._

_The girl looked up as he held out a cup, which she took with a soft smile. Once he was seated beside her, he unfolded the blanket and drew it about them, pulling her closer. He glanced at her, drinking in the beauty of her profile as she stared into the flames. Conrad had promised to keep their growing attraction to each other a secret, even though both Anneliese and Henrik both suspected of what was going on between the pair; neither said a word, for it wasn't the right time. So they let them be, turning a blind eye to the romance growing within the walls of their home, waiting for the appropriate moment to gently break it to the pair that their brewing romance would never be accepted within the eyes of Germany, were the war to end tomorrow and they were all to survive._

_She shifted, curling into his embrace, meeting his gaze. Gently, Adrian reached up, brushing a stray curl out of her eyes. He nudged his nose against hers, both oblivious to Conrad giving Cora her first kiss- something that would thrill the lovesick girl to no end for weeks after, and that would undoubtedly be her absolute favorite birthday present._

_"Are you okay?" She nodded, resting her head on his shoulder, nuzzling into his neck. He tightened his hold on her, brushing a kiss to her hair. "I can't believe she's seventeen." Zara laughed softly, pulling away to look at him. Neither heard the click of Cora's Kodak camera, snatching shots of her older brother and his "flower" as Cora called Zara- because of the meaning of her name._

_"I think she is happy just to be with family." Adrian studied her, seeing the pain in her eyes. He pulled her close, taking the coffee cup in her hands and setting it down._

_"I'm sorry, Zara. You must be missing your-" She shook her head, resting a finger against his lips._

_"Always, they will be with me. All of them." She slid an arm around his neck, resting her forehead to his. He sighed, pulling her closer. A moment passed, before he brushed as soft kiss to her fingertip._

_"Zara, I-" She pulled away, shaking her head, before glancing over her shoulder. Finding Cora and Conrad occupied, she removed the blanket and got up, excusing herself from the room to head upstairs. Adrian watched her go, before finally snapping to his senses and rushing after her, leaving Conrad and Cora to share a glance and follow. "Zara! Zara, wait, stop! Zara!"_

_The girl stopped on the stairs, and slowly turned to him. She'd hoped that she could have returned to the wall, where she could burrow under the blankets and breakdown, for it was moments like this- celebrations such as a birthday- that reminded her most of Abba and Ima, and Miriam and Levi, and how they did their best to make whatever occasion it was special, even within the ghetto..._

_"Zahrah? Mah karah?" Adrian turned as Eva came out of the kitchen, his parents in tow. And then his gaze snapped back to Zara, who glanced at her sister. How did she explain to her little sister how something as simple as a birthday party could bring back memories of their parents and siblings? There was no way she could make any of them understand-_

_So instead, she shook her head, turning to flee upstairs. "Zara!" Adrian grabbed her arm. "Is it because of what I was going to say? Because... I... I didn't mean to upset you, I just..." He tugged her down the steps towards him, until he could wrap his arms around her waist. "I was just going to tell you that... I love you."_

_She met his gaze, shocked. Had she heard correctly? Really, truly, heard correctly? True, she'd only known him for a few months, but... but such desperate situations often brought about such... extreme revelations. "A... Adrian... I..." _

_But before she could finish, his mouth was on hers, driving all thought from her mind. _


	52. Chapter 52

**Rifiuto: Non Miriena**

**Thanks to Reader for reviewing 48, 49, 50 and 51.**

_"Resistance is not just something locked away in the period 1939-45. Resistance is a way of life, an intellectual and emotional reaction to anything which threatens human liberty."_

_- Lucie Aubrac (1912 - 2007), Member of the French Resistance _

_Berlin, Germany_

_Black Cat Cafe_

_6:30 A.M._

"Sorry about that. My wife is pregnant and... if I don't immediately answer her phone call, she gets worried. We... had a bit of a scare a while back- bad car accident- and so she worries. It could also be her hormones, but... I just indulge in her whims. If it keeps her calm, right?" He returned to his seat across from the older man, who chuckled.

"No worry. Just... keep tight to her. Never know when you will lose her." Tim nodded, biting his lip; a part of him worried about the lie he'd told, and while it hadn't been a whole lie- they had been in an accident, with a truck, but had come out with only a few scratches and bruises-

"Um... thank you, for showing me all this."

"I not done. Still have more to show you. But first, we pick up your wife- is important to show her as well. Come!" After a moment, he gathered everything back into his folio and then stood, leaving payment and tip for both his things, Tim dashed after the old man, surprised at how fast he was moving. When he finally caught up with Conrad, the older man was waiting by a cab.

They drove back to the hotel- Tim had called Ziva on the way, telling her they'd pick her up- and once she'd climbed into the cab with them, Conrad directed the cabbie driver back into the streets of Berlin. They drove a fairways through the city, before coming upon a row of old brownstone homes. As Tim got out of the cab, he felt his jaw drop; these were the homes described in information they'd received from the Holocaust Museum's archives. Ziva, upon joining him, realized it too.

"This... this is the..." Conrad nodded as the pair turned to him.

"_Ja_. Come." It took them both a moment to catch up with the older man as he led the way up the steps of the old brownstone the cab had stopped in front of. As the couple followed him up the steps to the door; Conrad quickly unlocked the door, holding it open for the couple.

"How... how did-" Ziva started, unable to finish. The older gentleman chuckled softly.

"After war end, I come back to find my home and the Fromms'-" But Tim wasn't listening. He gently dropped the bag he'd thought to grab when he picked up Ziva in the foyer, near the door.

He looked around, drinking in everything he could see. The place looked as it had in the photographs within the Fromms' photo album- untouched by time, locked forever within the era of a time when murder and fear ran wild. He slowly made his way into the kitchen, before heading back towards the living room. It still remained the same as the photographs he'd seen of the house. After a moment, he slipped out of the living room, heading up the stairs before he glanced behind him, but Conrad and Ziva were engaged in a conversation about... well, he wasn't sure what. Shaking his head, he turned to continue upstairs, when he stopped midway to the landing.

_"I... I didn't mean to upset you, I just... I was just going to tell you that... I love you."_

He turned back to Ziva, who was still deep in conversation with Conrad. When he turned back to the stairs, he found that something was preventing him from moving, though he couldn't figure out what-

Tim jumped, turning to see Ziva behind him, Conrad with her. "Are you okay, love? You look like you've seen a ghost." He took a deep breath, covering his heart as he took several deep breaths.

"I... fine, Ella. Just... just don't do that again." Ziva nodded, watching him with confusion in her eyes. However, before she could ask, Conrad moved past them, beckoning for them to follow. Sliding her hand into his, she pulled Tim gently up the stairs to the landing, following the old German into the room a few feet from the landing.

"This... Adrian's room." He flicked on a light, illuminating the room of a young man. Everything had been left exactly as it had been during the war- the blankets upon the bed were yellowing with age, the blackout curtains still covered the windows, the desk still held an open notebook with neatly slanted scrawl, fading from time.

Ziva leaned against the door frame, watching as Tim stepped into the room and looked around. With a glance back at Conrad, who nodded his consent, he reached out, gently running his fingers over the bedspread. He knew this room, this... house. Not from the the photographs, but... but almost as if he'd... lived within its walls, once upon a time. It, like the house itself, was something out of a time capsule- forever preserved against the changing world around it. Letting his fingers trail from the bedspread, he made his way towards the dresser that sat like a sentry in front of the wall perpendicular to the door. Without a word, he made his way to the wood dresser, and glancing quickly at Conrad, began to slowly push it towards Ziva.

"Evan, what are you doing? You... you cannot-" But Tim ignored her.

"It is okay, _Frau_ Zane. There is something I wish to show you both behind dresser." Conrad replied, gently patting Ziva's hand. She turned to the older man, before turning back to her partner. Once the dresser was moved, Conrad joined Tim, beckoning her to follow. Both her and Tim's jaws dropped as they stared at the good-sized hole within the wall of Adrian's room- it was big enough for someone hide in and for the dress to hide it, but with just enough inches from the floor that the person had to be lifted into or out of the wall.

"Is... is this..." Ziva began, the words dying on her throat as she stared at the gaping hole, and the small hideaway beyond the room they stood in. Conrad nodded, silently pleased at the shocked looks on the couple's faces.

"_Ja_. This is where Hirsch sisters hid."


	53. Chapter 53

**Rifiuto: Non Miriena**

**A/N: Here's fifty-three. Well, Z's at least let me back into the room... not that we're talking... but it's a start, right?**

**Thanks to Reader for reviewing 52.**

_"I don't know about that. What I can say is that in my life there has never been a dull moment."_

_- Shaul P. Ladany (1936 - ), Holocaust Survivor, Israeli Racewalker and Two-Time Olympian_

Berlin, Germany

7:30 P.M.

_Her eyes snapped open, and she gently pushed Adrian away. Her dark eyes drank him in, and as he reached for her, she pulled away, rushing up the stairs and down the hall into his room. "Zara!" The door slammed, leaving them in silence. A moment passed, before Adrian glanced over his shoulder at the others; he saw the stunned looks on their faces, but paid them no mind as he hurried after her. _

_He opened the door, finding the room empty, but soon remembered the wall. He was silent as he made his way towards her, not wanting to upset her anymore than she already was; she looked up, tears in her eyes. "Zara, I... I'm sorry. I shouldn't have... I just..." He swallowed. _

_"You cannot mean it." Her whisper was soft, and after thinking for a moment, he climbed into the wall, settling across from her._

_"What do you mean I can't mean it? Of course I mean it, Zara. I do. I lo-" But she shook her head, her words cutting him off before he could finish._

_"A Gentile falling in love with a filthy Jew. What will your parents think?" Tears glistened in her eyes as she spit the words out, and she wrapped her arms around her knees, resting her head atop them. He watched as she seemed to shrink in on herself, that beautiful confident girl he'd witnessed come out into the open in the last few weeks retreat back further into her shell._

_"Zara-" She pulled away when he reached out for her. "Zara, listen, please. I don't care. I don't care what my parents think, or what Cora and Con think, or... or what anyone else thinks, not even the Führer himself." He shifted onto his knees, scooting closer to her. Even though she fought him, he took her hands, tugging her closer. "Zar-"_

_"They are sweet words, Adrian, even if they are lies." He pulled her closer, shaking his head. _

_"No, Zara. They're not lies. I would never lie to you; I haven't yet, and I will not start now." He slid an arm around her waist, pulling her closer, until she too was on her knees. She watched in silence as he slid his other hand along her wrist and up towards her fingers, threading his long fingers through hers. "I know this war is not what anyone expected, that... this life is not what you expected... but when I made that promise... to protect you and Eva... I meant to. I will never break it, no matter what obstacles try to prevent me from doing so. And-" But Zara was only partially hearing him; her eyes were too focused on their hands, as he slid his fingers through hers, his nails gently scraping against her skin. "I meant what I said on the stairs, Zara." _

_After several minutes, she slowly tore her gaze from their hands, turning to meet his gaze. "Ad-"_

_He rested his forehead to hers, taking a deep breath. "I meant it, Zara. Every word. I promise you, I meant it. And nothing, and no one, will ever stop me from meaning it. I promise. I love you, Zara. I don't know how or when I started to, but I swear to you, every single word is true. I've never meant anything more in my life." _

_Her eyes opened, and she studied him, unsure of what to say. Sure, she'd had crushes as a child, but for a boy to actually say that he loved her- truly and absolutely and completely loved her-_

_She had never expected to live long enough to hear someone say that they loved her- let alone a boy. When she'd been in the ghetto, she'd woken every day expecting the Gestapo to cart her off to the camps, and each night, when she went to bed, she said a little prayer thanking God that she'd been allowed to live, but not expecting to wake in the morning, or expecting to wake, only to find herself being taken to the trains that would take her and her family to the camps to be killed. But now-_

_Now, her life had changed drastically; she and her sister were the last two of their family that had survived the ghetto. They were being hidden and protected by a family of Gentiles- the son of whom had apparently fallen in love with her, and was now admitting that very love to her here within their hiding place. She forced herself to swallow, and after a moment, she pulled away, meeting his gaze. "Do you..." She bit her lip. "Do you really mean it, Adrian?"_

_He nodded, eyes filling with concern. "Of course I do, Zara. Why wouldn't I? How... how could I not?"_

_Zara shook her head, sniffling. "I just... you are a Gentile and... and I am a Jew..."_

_He took her face in his hands, gently brushing the tears away. "I don't care if you're a tiger with purple polka dots. I would love you just the same. I love you, because you are you, not because you're a Jew." He rested his forehead to hers. "I love you because you are Zara. Simply because you are Zara." Before she could say anything, their lips met in a deep kiss. She reached up, wrapping her arms tight around his neck and allowing him to hold her close._

_"Adrian? Zara?" The two pulled part, turning towards the opening. His parents stood in front of the hole in the wall, watching them. Zara burrowed into his side, horrified to be caught by his parents. "We need to talk to both of you."_


	54. Chapter 54

**Rifiuto: Non Miriena**

_"A general is just as good or just as bad as the troops under his command make him."_

_- Douglas MacArthur (1880 - 1964), Five-Star General of the United States Army _

_Berlin, Germany_

_1630 Leipziger Straße_

_8:00 A.M._

"I... it doesn't seem... possible." Ziva watched Tim wrap his hands around the mug. "I... I mean... it's certainly possible, but... but the fact that... that I knew where that hole was-" She reached over, laying a hand on his arm.

"Sometimes, things happen that one cannot explain, Evan." Ziva whispered, squeezing his arm. He met her gaze. They sat in the kitchen of the Fromm's home, cups of coffee before them. Tim shook his head.

"But... I've never even been in this house before, and... and yet I... I feel as if I've walked these halls before!" Tim cried, standing and going into the foyer. He spread his arms out, looking around. "I feel as if I've sat in this living room and gone up those stairs, and I've never been here!"

Conrad watched the younger man, silent. How did he explain that there were times in history when Cupid made a mistake, not only striking the couple, but every reincarnation afterwards? He glanced at Ziva; the young woman was watching her husband with silence, one hand resting over her middle. She had yet to show, but for the glimmer in her eye-

He recognized that glimmer; he'd seen it once before, a long time ago, when people were fighting for their lives in a world gone chaotic and every little word, every look could spell death if taken the wrong way. It was the glimmer of hope, of a new chance at a life not yet seized, perhaps even kept out of reach. "How far?" She turned to him, as her husband skulked into the living room thanks to the pull the house had over him.

"I am sorry?" She furrowed a brow.

"How far are you?" He gaze moved down to her belly, and she nodded, understanding.

"Oh. Um... a couple weeks, maybe. This... this case has... taken up the majority of my time, so I... haven't really been paying attention." He nodded.

"My wife adored her pregnancy. Relished it." Ziva sat up a little straighter.

"You were married?" She then shook her head. "I... I am sorry, that came out wrong." Conrad chuckled.

"Not problem. My wife and I met and married after war. She was British Salvation Army, come to help Germans and Jews get back on their feet. Had twins two years after wedding. Lost our daughter in car accident as child. Our son caught on other side of wall after goes up in sixties. Died trying to return home in seventies. Caught in tunnel beneath wall, arrested and executed." He sighed, tears coming to his eyes. Ziva reached out, taking his hand in hers and squeezing gently. He gave her a small smile. "Cherish the babe and husband. Never know when you will lose them."

A moment passed before Ziva bit her lip. She shouldn't ask, but she couldn't help it, she was so damn curious. "How... you keep saying that... well, you said that... if a couple was meant to be... then... then they would find each other. No... no matter the years or if they are... not born yet. What... what did you mean by that?"

Conrad sighed. "Couples... certain couples meant to be, always meant to be, in any time."

"Okay." Ziva considered it. "But... what does that have to do with Evan and I, or... or Adrian and Zara?"

The old German sighed, glancing towards the living room, but Tim had wandered upstairs, drawn back to the hiding place by some unknown desire to study every inch of it. Glancing at Ziva, Conrad stood, beckoning her to follow. He led her into the living room, looking around before turning to her. "After war ended, I returned. Took money my father left in saving account and bought Fromms' home, fixed it up to the same as had been before raid, in case any returned. But none came back; all lost to history." He sighed. "Adrian loved Zara, very, very much. Deeply loved."

"But... she was a Jew. And... and he was-"

The older man nodded. "_Ja_. To love a Jew in Hitler's Germany... punishable by death if caught, not that Adrian care. If could shout from the roof, he would."

"Did Zara love him?" He studied Ziva for a moment before nodding.

"Deeply."

"So... I... I'm sorry, Herr Bletcher, but... what happened to them? I mean they... they fall in love... did his parents object? Did they try to stop it?"

"Henrik and Anneliese... turn other cheek to budding romance... because by November forty-three, courts-"

"Disbarred Henrik." Conrad met her gaze, nodding, not at all surprised that she knew. "It... I found a file that said he was... disbarred under suspicion of... of helping Jews... and that... that he practiced law in... in secret... how is that possible?"

He swallowed; he knew all about Henrik's disbarment, because his own father had also been disbarred from practicing law at the same time under the same suspicion. They'd struggled; and when both men had decided to practice law in secret- a feat he _still_ hadn't been able to figure out- both families had done all they could to keep under the radar- from helping to print Nazi propaganda to make a little extra money to searching sewers for hiding Jews. Of course, if they ever came across Jews hiding in the sewers- which was rare in Berlin- they often returned street side saying that there was nothing but sewer water and rats below, allowing for the rare hidden Jews to flee as fast as they could to safety.

"I do not know. Father always kept law practicing secret. But it did not last long."

"Why?" Ziva furrowed a brow. From what she could understand, the law practice had gone fairly well.

"Because first week in January, the Gestapo come, take my parents and four Jewish children." He shook his head. "The Gestapo came in February 'forty-four."

"How do you know that?" Ziva's voice was soft. He met her gaze, tears in his eyes.

"Because I was here the day Gestapo come to arrest Henrik and Anneliese."


	55. Chapter 55

**Rifiuto: Non Miriena**

_"In my wrath, I wished I had the power to smite them for their dastardly work. How ashamed women of Japan would be if they knew these tales of horror."_

_- Minnie Vautrin (1886 - 1941), American Missionary who Saved the Lives of Chinese Civilians at Ginling Girls College during the Rape of Nanking_

Berlin, Germany

8:15 P.M.

_A moment passed, before Adrian glanced at Zara and got up, stepping out of the hole before helping her out. His parents watched the young couple, both knowing that what they had to say would most likely only drive the two closer together. Once they were out of the wall, Anneliese went to her son, gently brushing her fingers through his hair before turning to Zara. "What is it, Mother? And please, don't tell me that I'm too young to understand being in love, or that Zara is- we're not as young as you like to think-" But Henrik cut his son off, gesturing for the pair to join him on the bed._

_"I understand, that you want to protect each other-"_

_"It's not just about protecting each other, Father-"_

_"I know, Adrian. I know!" The sharp tone silenced his son, who had the decency to look slightly ashamed with himself for talking back to his father. "But you both have to understand. Were you to get caught, and the Gestapo to discover a relationship between you two... they would not hesitate to kill you on the spot." Henrik's gaze narrowed at Adrian. "That means you must keep any and all mention of the girls- and any relationship you may have with Zara- out of normal conversation. No one can know or even suspect-" But he stopped, hearing footsteps on the stairs._

_"Father!" They all turned as as Cora burst into the room, Eva and Conrad in tow. "There is someone at the door. They... they are wearing Gestapo uniforms! They... they are looking for you!" His speech forgotten, Henrik turned to the boy._

_"Get the girls into the wall, hurry! Make sure they stay back, within the shadows, away from the wall-" He kept calmly giving orders as Adrian and Conrad helped return Zara and Eva to the wall. Cora dashed after their father, asking what she should do. Zara turned to Adrian._

_"What do we do?"_

_"Stay quiet, both of you. Not a word." He gathered the blankets and pillows at their feet within the wall and pushed them into Zara's arms. "Here. In case they come in and demand to look around, there will be nothing for them to see."_

_"Adrian-" He turned to Eva, who watched him with wide, frightened eyes. A moment passed before he knelt down._

_"Remember, Eva, what we do when the British drop bombs over our heads?" It had been a common occurrence in the last few weeks and months for the British to perform air-raids over the city, causing destruction and sometimes knocking out vital needs like power in an attempt to weaken the German forces. However, most often, this destruction often left the citizens of Berlin without power and other essentials, not that the British cared- it was a meager price for the German people to pay if it meant a weakening of German forces. "Remember, Eva?"_

_Adrian shut his eyes tight and covered his ears with his hands- after the first major raid on Berlin, Eva had been so frightened her screams had woken the entire household, and they'd all been horrified one of the neighbors would hear her and come searching. So in effort to calm the girl down, Adrian had made the raids into a game, promising whomever could cover their ears and shut their eyes tight enough and hold it until the raid ended, would get a candy the next time he went out for groceries or to deliver leaflets. So far, Eva had won every time, as Cora had often given up in favor of burrowing into Anneliese's arms. Now though, the girl nodded, silent. Once satisfied, Adrian moved to shift the dresser back over the hole, when Zara stopped him._

_"Adrian, what if-" He shook his head._

_"No, don't think that, Zara." He pressed a firm kiss to her lips, before pulling away. With a soft 'shh' he held his finger to his lips, and she nodded, before joining her sister in the darkness of the further half of the wall, wrapping the blankets tight around them. Once the dresser was back in place, Adrian and Conrad rushed downstairs, skidding to a stop in the foyer. Henrik glanced over his shoulder at the two boys before nodding for them to go into the kitchen with Cora and Anneliese. Once they were safely within the other room, Henrik opened the door._

_"What can I do for you, Commandant?" Henrik asked, giving a quick salute to the men. Adrian and Conrad listened to the conversation from behind the kitchen wall, hearts in their throats. "... we have just finished celebrating my daughter's birthday. She turns seventeen. Is it a crime to have a small party for a child..." Adrian glanced at Cora, who burrowed into her mother's arms._

_Before they knew it, however, both men were in the foyer, looking around. Adrian glanced around the door frame; he swallowed. He knew that man; he'd passed him on more than one occasion when he was out shopping for groceries or secretly distributing leaflets. _

_Commandant Baasch. _

_He spent a great deal of his time searching for Germans who broke the laws, ones who hid Jews or helped Jews or did anything that went against Hitler's plans. An imposing man at nearly six feet, he was stocky with a permanent frown on his face. Now, though, he wandered into the kitchen with his hands behind his back. Adrian straightened, glancing out of the corner of his eye as Conrad launched himself into a chair at the table with a piece of cake before him. And his mother sat with Cora in her arms, humming a lullaby. _

_A long and deafening silence filled the room, before Commandant Baasch turned to Henrik. "Very well. Have a good night, Herr Fromm." And without another word or a look back, he left. It was only when the man's car drove away that they were all able to breathe again. Adrian glanced at his father, wanting to know what his father said to keep the man from going upstairs and looking around, but not wanting to ask. _


	56. Chapter 56

**Rifiuto: Non Miriena**

**A/N: There's a reason why this chapter has the ending it does...**

_"Good doctors are no use without good discipline. More than half the battle against disease is fought not by the doctors, but by the regimental officers."_

_- William "Bill" Slim (1891 - 1970), British Field Marshal_

_Berlin, Germany_

_Scandic Berlin Potsdamer Platz Hotel _

_3:00 P.M. _

The water was warm as she settled into it, allowing her body to relax against the tub. They'd spent close to four hours at the Fromm's residence, learning all they could, but after about one, they'd thanked Conrad and left, returning to the hotel. Although getting Tim to leave had been a hassle in and of itself; he was fascinated by that hole in the wall of Adrian's room, and when she'd gone in to fetch him, had found her lover taking photograph after photograph of the hole, the room around it, and the space within it from every angle conceivable. The only way she'd gotten him to leave was by promising they could come back the next day- to which Conrad had happily agreed.

Now though, Tim was letting the NCIS Berlin office as well as Gibbs and Tony know what they'd found- and while it didn't help them get any closer to catching who killed the Zanes, it did help to shed light on the pair that the couple had been obsessed with. Ziva, of course, had slipped off to the bathroom with a quick kiss. Once she'd shut the door, she'd instantly started the bath and stripped, grabbing a towel and resting it against the back of the tub before turning her gaze to the full-length mirror on the wall by the door.

She'd turned sideways, studying herself this way and that- much like Tim had done to that hole in the wall- searching for any sign of the baby growing within her. A moment passed, as she did the math in her head. How long had they been on this op? A few weeks? A month now? She couldn't remember, each day blurred into the next, and time seemed to speed up. Although, if she had to make a guess...

Maybe a month... or two... or three?

She wasn't sure. She couldn't remember, not with the case taking up most of her time.

However, if she rested her hands at the top of her belly and below, she could see a noticeable bump between her hands, but maybe that was just wishful thinking-

The water relaxed her tense muscles, and she lay her head back against the towel, fingers moving over her belly. When they'd arrived in Berlin, she'd gotten in contact with an English speaking doctor, who, after an initial examination, informed them that the baby was perfectly healthy. With that news taking a tremendous weight off both their shoulders, they'd dove into the case headfirst.

Her eyes closed, and she let her mind wander back to Conrad Bletcher's words. It was heartbreaking, that he'd bought the Fromm's house with the money his father had left him in his savings, and fixed it up, with the hopes that someone from that family would return, to no avail. And from what Conrad had told them, he'd been there, witnessed the night the Fromms were taken by the Gestapo, though he said nothing in regards to the children.

Perhaps it was too painful.

She swallowed; she'd learned quickly from Aunt Nettie that some things were better left to history. That opening those particular closets or delving into those trunks brought unnecessary pain to those who would rather forget. The problem was that in this case, they had no choice. They_ had_ to dig. A couple's killer or killers were on the loose.

And while they dug into those closets and trunks, they unwittingly unearthed some of the darkest secrets of the greatest atrocity ever to happen to mankind-

But perhaps, they could restore the names of a few saviors at the same time. Clearly, if they were on the right track, that's what Evan and Ella were trying to do.

Find the Fromms and set the record straight; that not all Germans were anti-Semitics. That not all Germans blindly followed Hitler in the destruction and obliteration of the Jewish race. That there were some Germans- like Oskar Schindler and Karl Plagge and Gustav Schröder- who saw Jews as people, not the cattle and waste Hitler categorized them as. That there were whole families that gave up everything- even their own lives- to help save the very lives of a people they were ordered to hate, simply because they were hated by one man set on world domination.

Yes, that made sense. It was the only thing that made sense, for the other option was too painful to consider- that the Fromms had hidden two Jewish girls so they could go to the Gestapo at the right time and inform them that there were Jews hiding in the walls of their home- simply for payment. Ziva remembered hearing stories of Germans who would do such an atrocious thing. Hide a Jew or two or an entire family, play the savior, and then, at the last moment, when desperate, turn around and hand them over to the camps for the money it would bring.

She shook her head; no, that didn't sound like the Fromms at all. Especially not Adrian. Everything they'd discovered about Adrian screamed that he was in love with Zara, the oldest girl his family helped hide. There was no way he would turn her over to the Gestapo for a simple amount of money. No, if he was truly as in love with Zara as Conrad claimed, then he'd do everything he could to keep her safe-

The bathroom door opened and Tim slipped inside. She looked up at him, instantly concerned by the look on his face. She sat up, pulling her knees to her chest. "Tim? What is it? What is wrong?"

He leaned against the counter, hands resting against the granite. Taking a shaky breath, he replied,

"I just got off the phone with Conrad Bletcher's lawyer."

"Wh-" He held up a hand, and Ziva quieted.

"Conrad... passed away about an hour ago. Had a... heart attack as he was walking down the street."

"Oh God. That's horrible-" Tim nodded. "Tim, what are you not telling me?"

"His lawyer told me that... Conrad left a safety deposit box in the local bank, it has his last will and testament. But, two weeks ago, he received a letter from Conrad, informing him that he left the contents of the will and his estate to an American couple."

Ziva furrowed a brow. "Who?"

Her lover swallowed, choking on the words. "Timothy McGee and Ziva _Da_vid. He... he left everything... to us."


	57. Chapter 57

**Rifiuto: Non Miriena**

**A/N:There's a reason this jumps to '44.**

_"There may be times when we are powerless to prevent injustice, but there must never be a time when we fail to protest."_

_- Elie Wiesel (1928 - ), Holocaust Survivor, Nobel Peace Prize Winner_

Berlin, Germany

10 February, 1944

2:00 A.M.

_Her eyes opened against the darkness; she lifted her head, glancing over her shoulder at Chava, who lay curled up beside her, holding tight to her doll. The girl was blissfully should asleep, for once, nightmares of the uprising gone. Satisfied her sister was okay, she pushed herself up to a sitting position, moving her head from side to side to release the tension in her neck. She ran a hand over her shoulder; she'd slept wrong- no matter how many blankets and pillows Frau Fromm gathered, sleeping on the floor within the wall was nothing like sleeping in a real bed._

_She turned, at the sound of scraping, jumping when Adrian poked his head around the dress. "Sorry. I didn't mean to scare you, Zara." She gave him a soft smile. Without another word, he helped her out of the wall, brushing a strand of hair from her eyes once she was on her feet. "Couldn't sleep?" _

_"No." He nodded, pressing a soft kiss to her lips, before taking her hand. _

_"I was going to make coffee. Care to come?" She thought a moment, before wrapping her arms around herself and shaking her head. He nodded, pushing her towards the bed before disappearing downstairs. A moment passed before she took a seat on the edge of the bed, looking around. It didn't seem possible that she and Chava had been hiding with the Fromms for nearly a year. She did the math in her head- come late May, it would be a year. And in that year, she and Chava had lost one family only to gain another-_

_She turned as the scent of coffee wafted towards her nose, to find Adrian holding a cup out to her. "Toda." He gave her a small smile as he took a seat beside her. Once settled, Adrian watched her slip her coffee, and unable to restrain himself, asked,_

_"What are you thinking about?" She met his gaze._

_"It will be a year come May. Us, with you." He nodded, not at all surprised by her revelation._

_"So it will be." He set his cup on the nightstand, watching as Zara took another sip and did the same. She turned to him. Gently, he reached out, taking her hands in his and tugging her closer. Their lips met in a soft kiss, and slowly, they shifted until they lay together atop the blankets, hands laced and attention only on each other. Adrian shifted onto his side, sliding his arms around her waist and pulling her closer-_

_A knock at the door forced them apart, and Adrian sighed, sitting up and going to the door, ready to give whomever was on the other side a piece of his mind, when he stopped. "Adrian, what is it?" He glanced at Zara before pulling the door open and sticking his head out._

_"Con?" He slipped out of the room, making his way towards the landing when he heard the voices. _

_"... they're coming, Herr Fromm. I... turned in... Gestapo..."_

_"Conrad, calm down. Take a deep breath and tell me again." _

_Adrian heard his friend inhale a shaky breath. "... someone alerted the Gestapo... coming for you..." He turned from the landing, rushing back to the bedroom and slipping inside. Zara sat up as he returned. _

_"Adrian? What is wrong?" He made his way towards her, kissing her softly._

_"Wake Eva."_

_"But-" He pushed her gently towards the wall._

_"Please, Zara. Wake Eva and grab your knapsacks, hurry." Then, without a word, he slipped out of the room and rushed to Cora's room. But she was already up and getting dressed, their mother helping her. Anneliese glanced over her shoulder. She gave her son a small smile. "Mother," Adrian swallowed. He didn't want to admit that he was frightened, but he couldn't help it. "What if-" Anneliese went to her son, pulling him into her arms._

_"Shh, Adrian, my son. It will be all right." He nodded, pulling away. When he returned to his room, both girls were dressed, and Zara was helping Eva place her things in her knapsack. She knelt down to the girl's level, and was talking softly with her._

_"Will we have to hide in the sewers again, Zahrah?" Her sister gave her a tiny smile, reaching up to gently cradle her face._

_"Let us hope not, Chava." She took her sister's small hands, squeezing gently. "Adrian will direct us where to go so that we can get away."_

_"He is not coming with us?"_

_"Of course I am. Why wouldn't I?" Both sisters turned to him, and Zara stood, eyes wide._

_"Why would you? Once Chava and I are away, you can return to your life, Adrian-" He sighed, going to her. He took her hands, pulling her close._

_"Zara, when I said I would do everything I could to protect you, I meant it. And that means going with you to make sure you're both safe."_

_"But-" He rested a finger to her lips._

_"I'm going, and so is Cora. No arguing." She never got the chance to open her mouth, as Cora rushed into the room, fear in her eyes._

_"Brother." Tears shimmered in her eyes and he rushed to him, throwing her arms around his neck. He hugged her tightly before pulling away. "Mother... she wants us to... to meet Conrad... in the alley... she and Father... distract..."_

_"Shh, hush, Cora." He held her at arm's length. "Calm down. We have to be calm, otherwise it will all fall apart." The girl nodded. He glanced at the sisters, before taking his sister's hand and leading them out of the room. He'd packed a small bag back at University, should the day ever come and they were captured. Now, though, he grabbed it from its place by the door as they left the room, making sure the girls had what they'd brought from the ghetto when they'd left. At the landing, he stopped them, stepping down one and hearing his father struggle to buy time for them to get away-_

_But soon the door burst open, and the foyer was soon filled with Gestapo guards, sending their carefully laid plans into chaos._


	58. Chapter 58

**Rifiuto: Non Miriena**

**A/N: Hey guys... ****we're trying, it's just... it threw us for a loop. A really big loop, you know? We were finally starting a family and... now it's gone. Sorry. We'll get back to this as soon ASAP. Besides, I think we'd both rather work on this than... ******

**Thanks to ladyd10 for reviewing 50 and EowynGoldberry for reviewing 57; and to Reader for reviewing 53, 54, 55, 56 and 57.**

_"My hope is that learning about past evils will help us to avoid them in the future."_

_- Livia Bitton-Jackson (1931 - ), Holocaust Survivor_

_Berlin, Germany_

_Scandic Berlin Potsdamer Platz Hotel _

_4:00 P.M._

"What do you_ mean Herr_ Bletcher is _dead_? How could he just die like that? And.. how could he just leave everything to us? He did not even know us except what we were willing to divulge, and even then what we told him was a lie!"

"Ziva, love, calm down, please." She took a deep breath, turning away from him and pressing a hand to her forehead. Not long after Tim had informed her of Conrad's death, Ziva had gotten out of the tub, grabbing a towel and quickly wrapping it around herself. Goosebumps appeared on her skin, and he sighed, gently pushing her into the bedroom before following. He took a seat on the bed, watching as she quickly got dressed, removing the towel once she had her bra and underwear on.

"It was sudden; he was elderly- his lawyer said that he'd had a heart transplant the year before, but that there had been problems ever since. He said that... Conrad had told him that he was hanging on just long enough to meet 'the couple from America' that... it was important he meet them before he die because 'they would be able to figure out the truth.' And then he told me that Conrad left everything to us and that we're to meet him as soon as possible."

Ziva stopped pulling her cargo pants on and straightened, looking up at him. "I'm sorry... _what_?" He sat back, studying her.

"Are your jeans getting too tight, Zia?"

She glanced down at the tan cargos in her grasp. "Of course they are getting too tight, Tim. I am pregnant with your child. And do not change the subject!" She balled up her cargos and threw them at him. He put his hands up, blocking himself from the pants, and looked up, watching as she pulled a blue t-shirt on before going to him. He reached out, wrapping his arms around her waist and pulling her onto his lap.

"Your belly's still small, but it's there." He whispered, splaying a hand over her stomach. She cocked her head.

"Is it? I cannot tell." He sighed.

"When I talked to Gibbs today, he said that we've been on this op for weeks- coming up on a month and a half." He let his gaze move to her belly. "Doesn't seem that long. It seems like it's only been... a week, maybe two at most." His fingers gently stroked over her belly, forgetting for the moment why they were in Berlin in the first place. He slid his fingers down, giving her a small smile. "It's a tiny swell, but its there." Ziva returned the smile, resting her forehead to his.

"Tim, you are avoiding the matter in my hand."

"Matter at hand." He corrected softly. "And I can't help it. We're going to be parents." She nodded, before something he'd said earlier hit her.

"What did he mean by 'American couple', Tim? It does not matter if I am pretending to be American-I am not American, I am Israeli."

"Look, I think..." He stopped, shaking his head. "Actually, I don't, never mind. But what his lawyer_ said_ is that he left everything to us. The only way we'll know for sure is if we talk to him today. Which is going to be fun." He muttered. "Because I _hate_ lawyers, almost as much as doctors." Ziva chuckled and took her cargos from him, getting up and pulling them on. Once she was dressed, they left the hotel, flagging a cab.

"Where are we going, Evan?" Tim quickly rummaged through his wallet, where he'd slipped the piece of paper with the address, and stopped once he'd pulled it out.

"Um.. sixteen-thirty... no, that can't be right." Ziva leaned close, reading over his shoulder.

"Is that-" He nodded, meeting her gaze.

"Yeah, it... it's the Fromm house." A moment passed before he gave the driver the directions, and before they knew it, they were standing once more in front of sixteen-thirty _Leipziger Straße, _waiting for the lawyer. "I do not-" But the door opened, and they both turned.

"_Herr_ McGee and _Fraulein Da_vid?" They looked up, finding themselves staring at a man in his thirties, dressed in a nice suit. The man quickly came down the steps. "I am August Haber, I was_ Herr_ Bletcher's lawyer. Shall we go inside?" For the second time that day, they followed an older man into the Fromm's house, taking seats on the sofa in the living room, watching as Haber laid out the will and various papers that would need to be filed.

"Um... what is all this?" Ziva asked, glancing at the papers and then at the lawyer. He sighed, and pulled a letter out of his case, unfolding it and holding it out to her.

"I received this in the mail a couple weeks ago." Ziva took it, and the two huddled together, reading it silently. "He has left all he owns to you two- the safety deposit box with the will, which I removed this afternoon so we may go over it, a sizable estate in Munich's countryside, as well as a small flat within the city itself, his business dealings, and of course, this home here at _Leipziger Straße. _He has also left a sizable amount of money for you both to rely on, and has asked for a good chunk of your inheritance to go to the American Holocaust Museum in Washington, D.C., the Naval... Criminal Investigative... System... and the _Yad Vashem_ in Israel..."

"Yad Va..." Ziva leaned close,

"_Yad Vashem,_ the Holocaust museum in Israel." Tim nodded, squeezing her hand gently, but something struck him as off.

"Wait... _Herr_ Haber, you're... you're talking as though Conrad was... wealthy. There's no way this is the same man. He... he told us that he took the last of his father's money to rebuild this house after the war..."

"_Ja_. He did. But what you must understand, _Herr_ McGee, is that Conrad was quite a shrewd businessman. After the war, he bought and traded in world markets and made millions. And because of his experiences, he learned to put money away- every penny he earned went into the bank, until he had amassed a great fortune. He bought crumbling properties and remodeled them, rented them out, and then closed them to renters, preserving them as homes for when he needed to get away. He spent the majority of his adult life building and saving and trading and buying. He made great profit in a time when the Wall prevented Western Berlin from thriving, and even after reunification, continued to buy and trade and save. So after he sent me the letter, when he came to visit me a week ago, I found it quite strange when he demanded to know why I had not changed his will to leave you both as beneficiaries. From what I knew, he had never mentioned you, did not know you at all-"

The couple shook their heads. Neither one had ever heard of Conrad Bletcher until they'd arrived in Berlin and run into him at the National Archives. "But..._ why us_?" Tim asked, his curiosity getting to him. He was going to solve the mystery of Conrand Bletcher- just as he was going to solve the mystery of the Fromms and Hirsches and their connection to the Zanes- if it killed him in the process. And, Ziva was beginning to worry, that it just might.

The older man shrugged. "All I know, is that when he came in a week ago, he informed me that... he would see his friend again, and when he did, he wanted to make sure everything was in order and left in his friend's name, because once he saw him again, he himself would not remain long on this earth. He told me that... he wanted to 'make sure that Adrian and Zara were well taken care of, especially with the little one on the way.'" A moment passed, before he held the will out to the pair. "You are now the owners of _Herr_ Bletcher's wealth, his legacy, and several homes, including this one."

Tim's green eyes scanned the papers, searching for any discrepancies, but found none. He glanced at Ziva, seeing the same concern in her eyes that he knew was in his own. It wasn't so much wondering if they could accept a dead man's wealth, but if, before he'd died, he'd lost his mind? Or... and this possibility was even_ less likely_... had he perhaps seen the future?


	59. Chapter 59

**Rifiuto: Non Miriena**

**A/N: Z wanted me to remind you all that as things escalate- especially in my chapters- that there are going to be "double quotes"- other quotes by someone that has _already_ been quoted at the beginning of a chapter previously within the story. - Ev**

_"Where there's hope, there's life. It fills us with fresh courage and makes us strong again."_

_- Anne Frank (1929 - 1945), Author and Owner of the Diary that Bears her Name_

Berlin, Germany

3:00 A.M.

_Within the chaos that followed, somehow, someway, Adrian and Conrad managed to get the girls from the house and out into the street. As they dashed towards the dark shadows of an alley, Cora stopped, turning back. "Father!" The sight of their parents being dragged out of the house that she had been born and raised in for seventeen years froze her to the spot. Henrik, however, looked up. _

_"Go! Cora, go!" _

_"But-"_

_"Go! Now!" The girl didn't move until the sound of bullets being fired forced her to turn and flee. She followed the sound of footsteps, finally catching up with the others. As Adrian wrapped her in a hug, she burst into tears. _

_"They took Mother and Father, Adrian!" _

_"Shh, shh, Cora, I know they did." She burrowed into his chest, unaware that they'd somehow managed to slip into an abandoned butchery- an old Jewish one- by way of the smashed window. "They gave themselves up so we could get away."_

_"But... but why?" Adrian tightened his grasp on his sister, swaying gently back and forth as he pressed soft kisses to her hair._

_"Because of us." The other three turned; Zara stood in front of Eva, shielding her from anyone who might pass and look into the building. "Becasue they felt... they had to save us... when they should have just handed us both over to the Gestapo." Tears glimmered in Zara's eyes, and after a moment, Adrian gently pushed Cora into Conrad's arms, going to the older girl._

_"No, Zara. They gave themselves over to protect you, because it's the right thing to do." Zara met his gaze. _

_"But now your parents will most likely be killed-" _

_"And if they are, then they will go to their deaths knowing they did so for the right reasons. Just as I will, should I ever be caught." He took her face in his hands, pressing a kiss to her forehead. _

_"We can't stay here for much longer." The pair turned to Conrad, who glanced out into the street, before ducking back in at the sound of Gestapo wheels driving by. Silence filled the building, and upon hearing the wheels disappear, Conrad led them out of the building._

_"Zara, where are we going?" She gently shushed her sister, but Conrad turned to glance back at her._

_"We're going to the courthouse. The basement will give us a place to rest and figure where we're going from here. Plus, Ad's bike is still there from the last time he was at the courthouse- back before Christmas- so if we need to, one of us can serve as a distraction, long enough for the others to get away." It was a long walk to the courthouse, but finally, they made it; using the lock picks, they slipped inside, hurrying down to the basement where the printing press was. Once inside the room, Adrian shut the door, grabbing Cora's hand when she moved to turn on the light. With a shake of his head, he removed his bag and opened it up._

_"What do you have in there, Brother?" She asked, leaning close to look. Adrian chuckled softly._

_"When you fear that you will be captured for joining a resistance group at University, Cora, you tend to pack only the essentials to survive in case you need to escape." He quickly removed the small packet of matches, lighting a couple candles before removing the contents of his bag as the others gathered around._

_Adrian had been right, he had packed only the essentials: small candles, matchstick packets, compass and pocketknife, ration stamps, small tins of crackers and other dry foodstuffs and two canteens filled with water, pen and paper to mark the days or create a map, his visa and ID- and, surprisingly- Cora's and Conrad's as well, bandages and ointment, a small pair of scissors and needle and thread, a light blanket and small handgun, along with a small pocketbook filled with bills of all kinds- French, Russian, Polish, English- just in case. It was everything a person could need to survive should they escape capture by the Gestapo._

_"Were you going to join the OSS or the SOE after Munich, Ad?" Conrad joked, holding up his hands at his friend's glare._

_"Hans wanted us to be prepared, in case anything should happen." Adrian replied, speaking of his close college friend for the first time in months. Until now, he had spoken of Christophe, made brief mention of Sophie, but had never mentioned the leader of the White Rose- Hans, his mentor at University. For it had been Hans that had offered to show him around campus that first year, that had taken him under his wing and allowed him to help with the leaflets, even before Sophie joined._

_"This... you had all this at University, Brother?" Cora asked, but he wouldn't meet her eye._

_There wasn't a single frivolous thing within the bag, with the exception of one thing. It was Zara that spotted it, and gently, she reached into the collection, pulling it out. "What is this?" The thing rested within her hand, and it was then that she realized it was just a wad of paper. Adrian reached out, taking it from her. He gently removed the paper, unfolding it and smoothing it out, resting it atop everything else. It was a leaflet from the White Rose, and on the back-_

_They silently read the names- names Adrian knew by heart- Christophe Probst, Gisela Schertling, Gerhard Feuerle, Alexander Schmorell, Professor Kurt Huber, Katharina Schüddekopf, Lieselotte Berndl, Jürgen Wittenstein, Marie-Luise Jahn, Falk Harnack, Hubert Furtwängler, Wilhelm Geyer, Manfred Eickemeyer, Josef Söhngen, Heinrich Guter, Hans Conrad Leipelt, Heinrich Bollinger, Helmut Bauer, Harald Dorhn, Rudi Al, Wolfgang Jaeger, Hans Scholl, Sophie Scholl... _

_"They are people. A... Adrian, your name is... is on this list..." Zara met his gaze, and he nodded, opening his palm to reveal a small white rose. He picked it up, revealing it to be a ring- a simple silver band with a white rose made of ivory and pearl. Even in the dim light of the candles, the two colors created a beautiful contrast._

_"Hans gave each member a white rose ring- to remind us of what we were fighting for, who we were standing up for... and why we were risking our lives..." He curled his fingers around the ring, slowly squeezing his hand closed as tears pricked at his eyes._

_"No, don't!" Zara grabbed his wrist, forcing his hand open. She took the ring, checking it over to make sure the delicate flower wasn't harmed. He shook his head, staring down at the names upon the paper- he recognized each name, each scrawl, every inch of handwriting, and remembered the person to which each belonged..._

_"And now they are dead. The majority of them... are dead... and for what?" He looked at each of them in turn. "What good did we do, speaking out? None. Not a single word was read, or taken seriously, because we were students at University. Hans and Christoph started that group to make a difference, to stand up to Hitler, and get others to listen and see. And all it did, was send the majority of them to their graves... and I should have been one of them. Why was I spared? What was so special about me that I walk away unharmed while the rest give their lives for the White Rose?" He shook his head. "I should have stayed... I should have stayed and gone to the guillotine with my head high like Sophie and Hans... and instead..." _

_He choked on a sob, the guilt he had been shouldering since the Rose disbanded finally weighing him down. Zara wrapped him in his arms, glancing at the others, unsure of what to say to calm his tears. So instead, she held him close, pressing a kiss to his temple when he wrapped his arms around her waist, as though she were the only thing holding him within the land of the living. _


	60. Chapter 60

**Rifiuto: Non Miriena**

**A/N: Tim's curiosity gets to him... **

_"I was one of the many horses pulling the wagon and couldn't escape left or right because of the will of the driver."_

_- Adolf Eichmann (1906 - 1962), SS Lieutenant Colonel and Major Organizer of the Holocaust_

_Berlin, Germany_

_Scandic Berlin Potsdamer Platz Hotel _

_9:00 P.M. _

"It doesn't make sense. How could he possibly know who we are, we hadn't met him until we got to Berlin!"

Ziva groaned softly; it had been the same argument Tim had been having since the meeting with August Haber; after they'd returned to the hotel, they'd ordered room service and discussed exactly how a man who'd never met either of them until... two days ago at most... could leave everything in his will to them, a couple of strangers. Tim hadn't let it go since.

"Tim," She shifted, turning onto her side to face him. "It is nine. We have been up all day, and I do not know about _you_, but the baby and I are tired. Now you can stay up all night, but I am going to sleep, and I suggest you do the same." She moved closer, sliding her arms around his neck. She caught his lips in a firm kiss before pulling away. "We can try and fix the puzzle tomorrow morning." Then, she shifted onto her other side, curling around her pillow.

"Finish the puzzle, Zia." He corrected, and was rewarded with a firm kick in the stomach. "I was just_ saying_-"

Her response was to reach behind her and grab his hands, tugging until his arms were tucked around her waist, and he was curled around her, his body melding to hers. "Go... sleep, Tim..." He sighed, trying to do as she instructed, nuzzling his face into her curls. However, his brain- that brilliant mind that had caught Gibbs's attention that long ago day in Norfolk and persuaded the old war horse to place him on the MCRT- refused to shut down for the night; instead, it kept working, running through scenarios and probabilities, and how the variables stacked up. After an hour an a half, he got up, slipping out of bed and going into the living room. He fixed a pot of coffee and took a seat on the floor, laying everything out chronologically.

A yawn escaped him. Between his nonstop working mind and Ziva's snoring like a drunken sailor, he wouldn't be sleeping. He sighed, glancing back towards the bedroom. It wasn't Ziva's fault; she was growing their baby- as Sarah had often called pregnancy when it was discussed in health class- and from what he remembered of his own health classes, it was an effort that often wore the mother out.

After a moment, he got up, picking up the black leather folio Conrad had left in his safety deposit box for them. He returned to the floor, opening the binder. Sitting atop the photographs and leaflets and letters was a set of keys- the second set, the emergency set. After receiving the originals, they'd placed them on Ziva's key ring; he supposed, that these would be for his. The old, worn silver of the key still shone in the darkness despite its age, and he sat there, looking over everything and running through the best scenario before finally realizing there was no way around it. He got up, slipping into the bedroom and quickly dressing into something warm. Then, pulling out a slip of paper, he quickly scrawled a note to Ziva, telling her where he was going, and that he'd be back in the morning.

As he slid the note onto her nightstand, he let his eyes wander over her; despite their burning attraction to each other upon first meeting, Tim still felt as if he'd known her for years. He leaned down, brushing a kiss to her temple, before doing the same to her cheek and the shell of her ear. "I love you, Zia. I'll be back soon, I promise." And without another word, he grabbed his coat and the keys to the townhouse, the files he'd returned to their envelopes and placed in his bag, and slipped out of the hotel room.

The cab ride to the townhouse was silent, and when he got out, he stuffed a few Euros into the driver's hand, thanking him with a nod. As the cab drove off, he made his way up the steps, pulling the keys out of his pocket. Sliding the key into the lock and opening the door felt like coming home, strange as that seemed. The house was quiet, and slowly, he wandered through the foyer towards the stairs, rummaging around quickly for a flashlight, for he was going to leave the lights off as long as he could, though he didn't know_ why_.

Each step up the stairs threw him further and further into a past he didn't remember, didn't even know existed. And as he made his way down the hall towards Adrian's room, he could have sworn the voices of the ghosts called out to him from beyond time and space. The door to Adrian's room creaked open, and he slipped inside, removing the bag from his shoulder and setting it on the bed. He did a quick survey of the room, before turning to the hole in the wall.

That was why he was here.

He made his way towards it, laying one hand against the jagged wood of the outside wall, as though embracing an old friend. A moment passed as he leaned in to look, but found nothing except a few blankets and pillows, tinged with age. Out of habit, he glanced over his shoulder before realizing he was alone, and taking a deep breath, he stepped into the hole. It was a good sized hole- high enough and wide enough that he could stand without folding his nearly-six-foot frame. He glanced to the right- the wall that distinguished between the closet and the wall met him, and so he turned his gaze to the left.

Darkness, straight across the board.

Except for the thing his light landed on. He made his way further into the wall- for it ran the length of the wall beside the bedroom door. However, he stopped midway, pausing by the small square at his feet. As he knelt down, he realized it was a small chest. He set the flashlight down, pulling the gloves out of his pocket; the chest looked fragile, brittle, and he wanted to do all he could to preserve it. As he lifted the lid, he felt his breath catch, the list of things the Zanes had been looking for flooding his mind.

_Adrian Fromm's ring. _

There, laying in the middle of the chest, sat simple silver ring with a flower in the center.


	61. Chapter 61

**Rifiuto: Non Miriena**

**A/N: Remember the mention of Cora's sacrifice? **

_"_These were dark days and I shall always remember the difficulties we had in trying to keep one step ahead of the Gestapo._"_

_-Monsignor Hugh O'Flaherty (1898 - 1963), The Scarlet Pimpernel of the Vatican who Saved 6,500 Allied Soldiers and Jews_

Berlin, Germany

Two Weeks Later

_They spent two weeks on the run, managing to keep one step ahead of the Nazis. Thanks to Henrik's connections with the underground, they were able to seek out those that had helped create and distribute leaflets, and find even temporary shelter with them. All in the underground had heard of Anneliese and Henrik's arrest, and so saw it as their obligation to help their children escape. They would stay a night or two before slipping out in the early hours before dawn, leaving with a soft 'thank you' before fleeing._

_They narrowly escaped on more than one occasion, but it soon became apparent that not all would survive; someone would have to make a sacrifice. None of them, however, were prepared for who stepped forward. _

_"We can't keep running. Eventually, the Gestapo will catch up, and we will all be executed." They'd found an abandoned apartment close to the train tracks that led out into the countryside, and had spent a couple days in the apartment, discussing what to do next and how best to get out of the city, for, once free of the city, the chances of them being caught by the Gestapo lessened- not significantly, but some. And both Adrian and Conrad knew that people in the country were likely more willing to take in and hide Jews than those in the city- for they were not as tainted as city folk were. They still lived by the code of 'helping those who come in search of need' as Henrik had called it. _

_Chava shivered, curling into her sister's side. Zara pulled the girl close, pressing a kiss to her hair. They knew how to survive, they had been surviving since Hitler had taken power, but the others- Conrad and Cora and Adrian- they had never lived as she and Chava had. She glanced down at her sister. "Must you talk about such things? We are already looking over our shoulders enough as is, Conrad." Zara turned her gaze to Cora; the girl appeared to have aged ten years in the last few days. She mustered a small smile in the teenager's direction, which Cora returned after a moment's hesitation._

_"This is reality now, Cora." Adrian whispered as he fingered the ring with its ivory and pearl rose. He wished to God that Cora would never have to know fear, that she would never know starvation and death. And while he had never known starvation, he'd known fear and the threat of death every day at University; the fear of the door bursting open on the printing room, the fear of the Gestapo bursting in, the fear of a Nazi-run trail, and the glistening threat of the guillotine's blade, thirsty for blood. He looked around at all of them, suddenly realizing the Hell his actions had dragged them all into. For once, he let Zara's words seep into his mind, and for once, he allowed himself to silently agree._

_They spent the rest of the morning in the apartment, telling stories to keep their minds off the chaos of the world beyond. It wasn't until the sky began to slowly darken that they gathered everything up, preparing to flee in search of another shelter, for they'd spent too long there, and in all likelihood, the place would fall under suspicion._

_As they slipped out of the apartment and made their way down the street, Conrad walked the bike- with Chava's help- ahead of the others. Adrian made sure to keep Cora and Zara ahead of him; all three girls kept their heads covered and gazes down, in the hopes that no one would stop them. Just as they got close to the train tracks, Adrian stopped, inhaling sharply. He recognized the wheels behind them. "Brother?" Cora turned back, and Zara glanced over her shoulder; only Conrad and Chava kept going, as Adrian had instructed them to. He met the girls' gazes._

_"Go. Run." Cora stared at him, brow furrowing in confusion, even as Zara grabbed her hand, realizing._

_"I suggest you stop." Adrian swallowed, hearing the click of a hammer being cocked, and slowly, he turned. A lone, solitary Nazi officer stood before him. He took a deep breath. In that moment, he recognized the man holding the gun on him, standing at the lieutenant's shoulder- he had once been an old childhood friend. Adrian scoffed silently; on the irony. To lose a friend over Nazism, only to face that friend years later, on the opposite end of a gun. _

_"Adrian Fromm, what a surprise." The young officer stepped forward, his gaze moving over Adrian's shoulder to the girl struggling to pull Cora from where she'd seemed to have glued herself. The three didn't realize that Conrad and Chava had already crossed the tracks and made it into the countryside; that they were waiting for them. _

_"Cora, take Zara and run. Now." _

_"I wouldn't, if I were you, Corinna." The officer replied, stepping up to Adrian and grabbing the front of his shirt, pressing the barrel of the gun to his chest. "Hand over the Jew, and I might let you both go free." It was then that Cora seemed to snap out of her shock, the voice jarring in her brain. _

_"Adolf?" She stepped closer, tugging free of Zara's grip. Yes. It was him. She had known Adolf Haas since childhood; he had been one of Adrian's dearest friends- "How could you?" _

_"How could you, Cora? Helping a filthy Jew." He spit in Zara's direction; the older girl didn't flinch, used to such treatment and disdain. "Or was that Adrian's doing and you just went along?" _

_"Cora, get Zara out of here." The officer raised an eyebrow, amused. _

_"Zara? Do not tell me you are on friendly terms with a Jew, Adrian-" The young resister studied his former friend, eyes narrowing. _

_"You punish me, Haas, and you let Cora go, you hear me?" He demanded, grabbing the front of the man's shirt. Haas chuckled, exposing a crooked smile. _

_"Oh, the pleasure I am about to reap at ending your life, Adrian." He watched as his former friend closed his eyes, lifting his chin. Clearly, Adrian was prepared to die, to face death if it meant sparing his sister's life. He removed the gun from Adrian's chest, moving back to avoid blood splatter- _

_But he never hit his intended target. In a matter of minutes that seemed to pass like hours, Cora shoved Zara towards the tracks, ordering her to flee before she rushed towards her brother. Somehow, someway- perhaps it was seeing her brother so willingly give up his life for hers, or that she wasn't willing to lose another member of her family- blood or accepted- but for whatever reason, Cora managed to put herself between her brother and the gun. She rushed towards Adolf- her former neighbor, one time childhood friend- reaching for the handgun-_

_The sound of gunfire filled the air, followed quickly by the mixed smells of gunpowder and blood. Cora looked down, blood began to spread through the thin material of her dress, staining it a sickening burgundy. Her hands moved down to press against the wound even as her eyes moved to meet Haas's- _

_Her legs gave out, sending her sprawling into the dirt as the blood continued to spread, but he had no time to react, for Adrian was soon upon him, screaming obscenities and proceeding to beat him to a bloody pulp. And before Haas could react, he too, felt the sharp sting as metal pierced flesh, killing him instantly. His now lifeless eyes stared up at Adrian, who, shaking with anger and covered in blood, soon turned from the man he'd once called friend, dropping the handgun and rushing to his sister's side. "Cora. Cora, look at me! Corinna, look at me, listen to me! You're going to be okay, you hear me? You..." He choked on a sob. "Why? Why did you do that? I was ready... I-" _

_But Cora didn't respond, instead, she removed something from her finger, holding it out. Adrian's brow furrowed- it was his White Rose ring.__"Zara... I could... safe keep it..." Adrian took it, even more confused. "Ready to... die for your cause..." She nodded to the ring, reaching up and brushing her fingers over his cheek. "I... ready to... die for... mine..." He shook his head. _

_"No, Cora, we'll get you help. Just hang on-" He slipped an arm beneath her knees and one beneath her shoulders, lifting her gently a few inches from the ground, but she cried out and he regretfully returned her to the ground. "I'm so sorry, Cora. I... I never should... this is my fault..." She shook her head, taking a short breath. _

_"Our cause... Zara... Eva... our Jews... our... family..." She curled her fingers against his cheek, and pressed a kiss to her palm, tasting the sting of copper against his lips. "never... regret... our... famil... Broth..." Her chest stilled, and her beautiful blue eyes turned to glass as her heart finally gave out and her body succumbed to the bullet that had ripped through her organs. Adrian shook his head, holding her hand tight against his cheek. _

_"Cora... no... Cora..." Zara, who'd returned upon hearing the gunshots, stopped behind him, tears in her eyes as she watched Adrian break down. At first, she'd feared it was Adrian, but now- She reached out, gently laying a hand on his shoulder, but he shoved her away. The ring fell from his grasp, landing in the bloodstained dirt beside the teenager's body. Thinking quickly, Zara knelt down and picked it up, knowing the meaning it held for Adrian, and she didn't bother covering her ears or stemming her own tears as Adrian's cries tore at her heart and the hearts of all the angels in Heaven._


	62. Chapter 62

**Rifiuto: Non Miriena**

**A/N: I actually had to write the chronology down as I was typing it. **

_"I've brought you a present. Eichmann is here."_

_- Isser Harel (1912 -2003), Spymaster and 2nd Director of Mossad_

_Berlin, Germany_

_Scandic Berlin Potsdamer Platz Hotel_

_7:00 A.M. _

Ziva shifted onto her back, reaching out for Tim-

Her eye snapped open to find his side of the bed empty. She sat up, looking around, before finally spying the note on the nightstand. She snatched it up, her gaze skimming over the note. "_'Found a lead I had to look into, will be back as soon as I possibly can. Until then, you and Bug get some rest. I love you, Tim.'"_She balled the note up, gritting her teeth. With a soft growl, she threw back the covers and got up, storming into the bathroom after tossing the note in the trash.

A warm shower thirty minutes later didn't improve her mood- she was still going to kill him- and as she got dressed, she ran through the various ways she could achieve that with what was on hand-

The door to the room opened, and she slipped out into the living room, pulling her hair into a messy ponytail. She crossed her arms over her chest, narrowing her eyes as he shut the door softly behind him. His head snapped up as she cleared her throat. "Zia... you're up..." She nodded, pushing herself away from the wall.

"And... where have you been?" He bit his lip. "I'm just curious, because I woke up and you weren't there." She leaned up on her toes, sliding her arms around his neck when she got close enough. "Bug and I missed you this morning."

He took a deep breath. "I... went out for a run." She stared at him for several minutes before narrowing her dark eyes. Then, she gently smacked him on the back of the head- in a move eerily reminiscent of Gibbs.

"Liar. You went out to the Fromms' house, didn't you? When I _specifically_ told you not to." He met her gaze after a moment, before nodding. "Why?" She pulled away as though she'd been struck by lightning.

"Ziva, I was looking through the house, and you know the wall?" She furrowed a brow.

"The wall that the girls hid in?" He nodded. "What about it?" He set his bag down, opening it up and pulling something out. As he set it on the table, she realized what it was- a small wooden chest, about four inches high and six deep. "Tim, where did you find that?" He met her gaze.

"Hidden in the far corner of the wall." Using gloves, he gently lifted the lid before removing something. "And this was inside it." Her eyes widened as she stared at the ring in Tim's grasp. He beckoned for her to hold out her hand, and once done, he set the ring within her grasp. Being careful, Ziva lifted the ring, drinking in the small silver flower atop.

"What is that?" She asked, studying the flower. Tim quickly removed the files from his bag and began laying them out on the floor.

"From what I can figure, it looks like a lily- maybe even a waterlily." Once everything was set, Tim poured two cups of fresh coffee, set them on the ground and then tugged Ziva onto the floor with him. "Look, remember the file we found that talked about a ring that belonged to Adrian?" She nodded as he grabbed the file in question, handing it to her. "This has to be Adrian Fromm's ring."

"But... if it is, then... why was it in the chest? If something happened to him, why didn't he take it with him?" Tim shrugged, thinking.

"He probably left it behind because back then, if they were captured, whatever they took with them to the camps was confiscated by the Nazis. He probably hid it so if he survived and returned, he'd be able to find it again." Ziva settled beside him, resting her head against his shoulder. "How long have you been up, Zia?"

She met his gaze, sighing. "Got up... about an hour ago. You weren't there." He 'hmmed' softly, brushing a kiss to her forehead.

"And how's Bug doing?" She chuckled softly, at the realization that he'd finally given in to the nickname she'd given the baby not long after discovering her pregnancy. One hand came up to cradle her belly, and she looked down.

"Fine. Wearing me out." It was Tim's turn to laugh softly, as he wrapped an arm around her waist. "So," She grabbed her mug, taking a sip. "what did you find out?" Tim glanced at her, before reaching into his bag and pulling out a notebook. He flipped to a blank page, and began writing.

"So... Henrik Fromm was born in eighteen-ninety-seven, right?" She nodded. "And Anneliese was born two years later in -ninety-nine. We know that they got married in nineteen-nineteen, and that Adrian was born in nineteen-twenty-three and Corinna in 'twenty-seven."

She cocked her head. "But... Tim, we know that already."

"Just hear me out, Ziva." She waved for him to continue. "Now, we know that both Henrik and Anneliese died in forty-five, and we know that Conrad was there the night of the raid because he told us that himself. So there's a good chance the children could have gotten away."

"Tim-" He held up a hand.

"I stopped at the National Archives on my way back here, and spoke to the woman there. I told her we were looking into the Fromms and Hirsches as part of a new exhibit at the Holocaust Museum in D.C."

"Tim!" Her eyes widened and she choked on her coffee.

"Zia, relax. I didn't use our names, _Ella_." She took a deep breath, relieved to hear he used their alternates. She agreed to give us a private tour of the vault where they keep the rest of the archives. She said we might be able to find something about them down there."

"When?" She asked, swallowing thickly. He took her hand, squeezing.

"One o'clock."


	63. Chapter 63

**Rifiuto: Non Miriena**

**A/N: How the _fuck could you kill off Cora?_ What, are you going to_ kill them all off_? **

**~ Apparently Z just read Chapter 61. **

_"All I knew was that hate was so deadly as any poison and did no one any good. You had to control and eliminate it, if you could."_

_- Louis Zamperini (1917 - 2014), U.S. POW and Olympic Distance Runner_

Berlin Countryside,

Germany

_It took some time, but finally, Zara was able to get Adrian to leave Cora behind; she held tight to his hand as she tugged him across the train tracks and into the countryside. He followed in a daze, his mind back on that street in Berlin, where his sister's body lay. Finally, they found Conrad and Chava, who had found an old abandoned barn to bed down for the night. The pair looked up as the door opened and Zara stumbled in with Adrian in tow._

_"What happened? Where's Cora?" Zara didn't say a word to the other young man, just turned to Adrian, who swallowed. "Ad, where's Cora?" _

_"Help me with him." Quickly, Conrad and Chava rushed to help, finding one of several old milk stools and pushing Adrian onto it. Once seated, Zara moved away from him, going to the bag he'd brought and sent ahead with Chava. They'd managed to find a few canteens and fresh water in an abandoned store over their time hiding out, and had nicked it so they had extra. Now, Zara pulled out one of the canteens and opened it, before tearing a strip of cloth gauze in two and returning to them. _

_"Ad, talk to me. Where's Cora?" Zara gently moved Conrad out of the way, kneeling in front of Adrian and taking his hand. Gently, she began cleaning the blood from his knuckles, wincing when she was too harsh. After a moment, Adrian whispered, _

_"Dead." _

_"What?" Con narrowed his gaze. _

_"Sh... shot by... Gesta... Gestapo... officer... t... took the... the bullet m.. meant for... for me..." Conrad glanced at Zara, who nodded, and the he stood, turning from the girls. A moment passed, before kicked the other stools in anger. Chava cried out, hiding behind her sister, and Zara's head snapped up. _

_"No!" Conrad turned to her. "Not today. Not now." She stopped working on Adrian's hands, meeting Conrad's eyes. "Cora died, yes, and we say a prayer and light a candle, and then we figure how to survive..." She swallowed the lump in her throat. "Because Cora would want us to."_

_"She was my sister." Zara turned her attention back to Adrian, his words soft, almost silent._

_"Shh, hush, Ahava. Hush." She continued working on his hands, humming softly to him._

_"Ahava?" Conrad turned to Chava, who watched him, worried. The girl swallowed._

_"It means... love in our language." She whispered. Conrad nodded, righting the stools and taking a seat on one, burying his face in his hands. Chava watched as her sister continued working-_

_But suddenly she found his arms around her neck, his face buried in her hair. On his knees amid the straw and dirt and grass, Adrian clung to her as the shock of witnessing his sister's murder wore off, becoming replaced with realization and horror. A moment passed, before she wrapped her arms around him, holding him close. "Ahava... oh, ahava..." She tightened her hold on him, brushing soft kisses to his hair, a soft Hebrew lullaby escaping her lips, one Ima used to sing to them whenever they were frightened or upset. _

_Conrad watched his best friend breakdown, and after a moment, he got up, closing the barn door left open when Zara and Adrian joined them. He leaned against the door, taking a deep breath to calm the race of his heart. It couldn't be true..._

_But what other explanation was there for Adrian joining them covered in blood as he was? What other explanation was there for his breakdown? Cora was the only reason Adrian would react as he had, and if something happened to her-_

_He glanced over his shoulder at his best friend. He'd known Adrian since they were children, toddlers, even. He'd watched Cora grow up, seen how close the siblings were. If someone picked on Cora, you could count on Adrian to be there to defend her. Adrian treated Cora as though she were his child; he considered her to his to protect- _

_A brief flash of anger overcame him, planting the seed that perhaps Zara and Eva were the reason why Adrian had suddenly stopped caring about his sister. He quickly shook that thought away. No, if anything, protecting the sisters had brought the Fromm siblings closer. They had relied on each other more than ever to look out for each other, for the secret of the girls hiding in the wall had been a sibling affair- from the moment Adrian brought the girls home, Cora had been involved. She had willingly participated in the hiding of two Jewish girls._

_Yes, Cora had taken the responsibility of her family's secret to heart- and she'd given her life for it._

_A moment passed, before he returned to them. Silence filled the barn, as Conrad weighed their options. "We'll stay here for the night, get some rest and then leave at first light." Zara and Chava nodded._

_Eventually, Adrian calmed, and slowly, he pulled back, meeting Zara's eyes. She reached up, cradling his face in her hands. "Ani Mitzta'er, Adrian." He nodded, resting his forehead to hers. Tears continued to slide down his cheeks, and gently, Zara wiped them away._

_"I don't understand." He took a deep breath. "Why would she-"_

_"Because she loved you." She whispered, sliding her arms around him again and tightening her hold. He buried his face in her hair, shoulders shaking with silent, heartbroken sobs. Zara pulled him closer, tears slipping down her own cheeks. She knew all about sibling sacrifice- Levi and Miriam had done the same to allow her and Chava to escape- in a different way, but still. "You are her brother, Adrian, and she sacrificed herself so you could live." _

_"How would you know, Zara?" He asked, pulling away. She met his gaze. _

_"Because my brother and sister did it for me, and for Chava."_


	64. Chapter 64

**Rifiuto: Non Miriena**

**A/N: And now Tim and Ziva find out what we already know...**

**Thanks to TVismydrug for reviewing 63- we're glad you're enjoying it.**

_"_The problems I had existed before I did, and I discovered them._"_

__- Guy Sajer, (1926 - ), French Writer__

_Berlin, Germany_

_National Archives_

_1:00 P.M. _

Ziva curled into his side, tugging down the sleeves of her coat; it had gradually gotten colder, despite the nice weather. Tim glanced down at her, tugging her closer and pressing a kiss to her hair. "_Herr_ Zane?" Tim turned, instantly recognizing the woman he'd spoken to earlier. She held out a hand. "It's good to see you again." They quickly shook hands, before Tim turned to her.

"This is my wife, Ella." After introductions, the woman folded her hands in front of her, asking,

"So you are... looking into the Fromms?" Tim nodded, removing the bag he'd taken to bringing whenever they were out investigating a lead. He set the bag on a nearby table and pulled out the files.

"We have been helping with an exhibit at the United States Holocaust Museum that focuses on German families that hid Jews within Hitler's Germany. They want to call it 'Hiding in Plain Sight,' and what we've suggested is one called," Ziva watched as he pulled out a fairly well-done rough sketch of what looked like an exhibit. She glanced at Tim, brow furrowed. When the hell did he have time to draw this? Let alone think up this... story? "Well, this is really my wife's idea for the name- Behind the Wall, and the story of the Fromms and Hirsches. See, we... we have some information, but we don't have the whole story. We know the parents died in forty-five, but we don't know about the children, and the two girls they hid."

The woman studied him, taking the folio and envelope and silently leafing through the papers. A moment passed before she handed them back and beckoned for them to follow. Tim glanced at Ziva, before taking her her hand tugging her forward. "Who _are_ you?" He grinned at her surprised whisper, before leaning down and kissing her softly. The woman glanced behind her, a smile coming to her face at the sight.

Eventually, they made it down to the underground vaults that held the overflow for the archives. She quickly scanned through several drawers, before stopping at one in particular and pulling out the drawer in question. "Here we are. This is all we have on the Fromms and the Hirsch girls. There is a table in the far corner, and if you need me to make any copies, do not hesitate to come get me. Now, if you'll excuse me." And with a soft smile, she returned above joined Tim at the drawer; he quickly scanned everything before picking the drawer up and going to the table. She followed, taking a seat beside him.

They spent two hours sorting everything, searching for anything that told them the fate of the children; giving the woman grateful smiles when she brought down two mugs of steaming coffee in a tray, which she set on an adjacent table. So it was close to three when Ziva sat back, working on her fourth cup as Tim continued to scan through papers.

"Tim, we have been at this for two hours. I do not know how you are feeling right now, but I am feeling exhausted." She set the cup back on the tray and stood, placing her hands on her back and stretching before she turned back to watch as he kept sifting through the files, one hand moving the caress her belly. "Tim?" He didn't notice her. "Tim, I need to tell you something. The baby... it is not yours. I... I managed to get myself pregnant without your help and I have been playing along so that you do not feel bad..." When he didn't respond, she sighed. "Forget it. I am going back above ground for some fresh air-"

"I found it." She stopped, turning back to him.

"What?"

His eyes skimmed over the paper he held, before he broke into a grin. "Ziva, I found it! I found out what happened to Cora!"

She hurried to him, leaning over his shoulder to see what he held, but he quickly shuffled everything over, clearing a space into which he set a series of papers- newspapers, certificates- and then turned to her. "What is it? Tim?"

He pulled her onto his lap, pointing out everything. "Remember how they gave us a copy of Cora's birth certificate back in D.C.?" She nodded. "Well, they have something here that the Holocaust Museum in D.C., doesn't." He reached down, sliding something towards them. "Her death certificate." Ziva leaned close; the writing was still as fresh as the day it'd been applied in some places, and in other places, it was so faded, it was almost nonexistent.

"I... I can't make out the writing, Tim. What does it say?" He leaned close, studying.

"This is her birth date- August sixth, nineteen-twenty-three..." He let his gaze move further down. "And this is her death date... March... March first, nineteen..." He swallowed, glancing at Ziva. "March first, nineteen-forty-four."

Ziva shook her head. "That... that cannot be right, Tim. She... would have only been seventeen..." Ziva quickly searched through the files they'd brought, but came up empty, realizing that they hadn't found anything that mentioned Cora's age. She turned back to Tim.

"It's true. Look at this." He opened a folded newspaper, the date being March second. Clearly it was a resistance newspaper. The headline screamed in bold black letters, and beneath it, was a photograph of Cora. Ziva leaned close, quickly reading it to herself as tears began to fill her eyes. Her voice shook as she read the headline,

_"Gestapo murders Seventeen-year-old Girl helping Jews to Escape"_


	65. Chapter 65

**Rifiuto: Non Miriena**

****A/N: We haven't really talked intimately since the miscarriage... in all honesty, she talks more to my sister than she does me... can't deny that I'm jealous... and I know I shouldn't be because Licia's been there before and she now has two little girls now, but still... ****

**A/N: Did you _have_ to put the crawling into this chapter? **

**~ What's wrong with the crawling?**

**What _isn't_ wrong with the crawling?**

**~ Everyone crawls- animals, amphibians, babies... sorry, Z. **

**~ *glares at him* Well it creeps the hell out of me. It's just... people crawling on their hands and knees... or running on their hands and feet... or... or doing that... creepy reach out and pull thing-**

**Reach out and pull? **

**~ Yeah, you know... when you reach out your hands and pull your body along the ground... *shivers***

**Uh-huh. Hey Z? *meets her gaze* Have you been watching _Most Terrifying Places_ again? **

**~ Why?**

***sighs and goes to her, slipping arms around her waist from behind* Haven't I told you to stop DVRing them? *she pulls away, shoving hands off her stomach* You know all they do is keep you up all night because of that overactive imagination of yours. **

**~ So sorry. I didn't realize you were the DVR police. I won't do it again. **

**I didn't mean... I just meant... Z! Z, I'm sorry! I- ***watches as she storms off to bedroom and slams door* **yeah, we're back to civil conversation. Sorry guys, here's 65.**

**Thanks to sintija2001 for reviewing 64 and Reader for reviewing 58, 59, 60, 61, 62, 63 and 64.**

_"Look at how a single candle can both defy and define the darkness"_

__- Anne Frank (1929 - 1945)__

Berlin Countryside

Germany

Seven Weeks Later

_Since Cora's death, they'd spent days hiding in the fields or abandoned barns they'd come across, moving at night, sometimes staying put, depending on how everybody felt. Adrian had remained sullen, distant, holding tight to Zara's hand, but not really paying attention. His sister's death had hit him hard, that much was evident._

_So it was one evening seven weeks after Cora's murder- for it was murder, but so was Haas's death- that the four sat together around a small fire they'd managed to build from the straw in the abandoned barn they were hiding out in. Zara curled into Adrian's side. "It is Passover." _

_"Passover?" Conrad asked, raising an eyebrow. Zara nodded, pulling her coat tighter. The rain had helped to wash away any trace that they'd been dashing through the countryside, but it had also done nothing but leave an almost permanent chill in the air, and they'd taken to sleeping within the hay at night to stay warm, or in the fields if they were without shelter. _

_"We celebrate our libernation-"_

_"Liberation, Chava." Zara whispered, nuzzling her face in Adrian's chest. _

_"Right... from... slavery in... in Egypt... by God and Moses..." Conrad nodded, holding out an arm and allowing the child to crawl into his embrace. He wrapped his coat around her, hoping it would help warm her. _

_"It is supposed to be a week of celebration... but a year ago, it turned into a bloodshed." _

_"Warsaw?" Adrian asked, looking down at Zara, who nodded. _

_"Our brother and sister fought... and Ima and Abba got caught and executed." She returned her head to his chest. Adrian glanced at Conrad; both seemed to be on the same train of thought._

_"Eva, what do you do? For Passover, what do you do?" The girl looked up at Conrad, the sound of his voice rumbling in his chest and giving her comfort._

_"We..." She glanced at her sister. "We fast and... we pray and..." She stopped, hearing Zara's soft sobs._

_"Well, you know what?" Conrad stood, going to Adrian's bag. He pulled out one of the candles and a match, and after quickly striking and lighting it, he set it into the dirt around them. "It may not be the Passover you're both used to, but at least it's something." He then removed one of the cracker tins and opened it, holding it out to Chava, who took a couple with a smile. The child went to her sister, holding the cracker out, but Zara just shook her head and pulled away. She slipped out of the barn, disappearing into the dark as Chava returned to sit beside Conrad._

_Adrian glanced at the other two, before following the older girl. He found Zara sitting on her knees a few feet from the barn, arms wrapped tight around herself. She had her head down, and was rocking slowly back and forth, prayers falling softly from her lips like stars from heaven. Silently, he went her, kneeling down and reaching out to take her shoulder-_

_She jumped, scrambling forward on her hands and knees before she turned to face him. He held up his hands, speaking slowly, before he lowered his hands and slowly crawled towards her. But for every move forward, she crawled back; his mind screamed that she didn't see him, that it was most likely memories of the uprising that were currently crowding her dark eyes. "Zara, it's me. It's Adrian. Can we talk? I'm not going to hurt you, remember? I just want to talk." She didn't say a word, just watched him, tears in her eyes. "Zara, please." _

_When he finally got close enough, he reached out and took her hand. A moment passed before she seemed to recognize him, and then crawled towards him, wrapping her arms around his neck and burying her face in his chest. She broke down, her sobs choking out most of her words, but he was able to distinguish Ima, Abba, Miriam, Levi and uprising in the bunch. He tightened his grip on her, letting her cry; letting her grieve for the family she'd lost- for the family she'd hadn't grieved for in a year._

_When they finally returned inside, they found the fire gone out, but the candle still burning. _


	66. Chapter 66

**Rifiuto: Non Miriena**

****Thanks to sintija2001 and Reader for reviewing 65.****

_"The Nazis understand everything except humour."_

_- Mary Berg (1924 - 2013), Survivor of the Warsaw Ghetto _

_Berlin, Germany_

_1630 Liepziger Straße _

_6:00 P.M._

They had returned to the house on Liepziger Straße after their time at the Archives- the woman had made copies of several papers they didn't have, and then they'd stopped and gotten takeout. Surprisingly, it had been Ziva who had suggested going to the townhouse with another one of her Mossad tricks in mind, and they now sat on the floor in the living room, a fire going in the fireplace- which they'd discovered had been cleaned out a while ago- with their files spread out around them. Takeout cartons sat within reach, and Tim had made coffee.

"So... remind me again of how Cora died." Tim swallowed his bite and then pulled out the death certificate. Ziva wrapped her hands around the mug and took a sip, listening as he spoke.

"'Shot once in the stomach at close range with a Luger P-Zero-Eight." He swallowed, glancing at Ziva, who lowered her mug. "She was seventeen."

Tears filled her eyes, and she took a deep breath. A moment passed before he reached out, taking her hand and squeezing. She gave him a small smile before reaching up and brushing at the tears sliding down her cheeks. "Damn hormones." He chuckled, leaning over the files to give her a soft kiss. When he returned to the files, Ziva searched through her own pile, pulling out several of the new photocopies they'd received from the Archives. Quickly, she skimmed through several files, before stopping. "Tim." He looked up. "Look at this." She held the file out to him; he took it, confused.

"What is it, Zia?" Quickly, she stood, skipping over the files on the floor and taking a seat next to him.

"It looks like it is a roster of all the German lawyers and court officials in Berlin." She curled into his side. "Look- Henrik Fromm and his wife, Anneliese." She read off two sets of numbers, and instantly, Tim set the roster down and began to search. "They are-"

"ID numbers." He replied, finally finding what he wanted and opening it up. The newspaper- clearly a resistance paper printed by those Henrik had printed leaflets with- hadn't come from the Archives, but from Conrad's folio, and he spread it open atop everything else, but not before grabbing the roster and setting it beside the newspaper. "I think... and this is just a guess... that after Henrik and Anneliese arrived in Auschwitz-Birkeneau, they were seperated as was normal, disinfected and tattooed, and then sent to work. And since both died in forty-five, and we know they did, then that means they had to have died not long before liberation."

"Where are you going with this, Tim?" She watched him, wary.

He looked at her. "Just hear me out, Ziva." A moment passed before she nodded. "Now, if we're right and they died before liberation, then someone at liberation must have found their bodies, recognized them, and brought them back to Berlin to be buried beside Corinna."

"But we do not even know if Corinna was buried-"

"Ziva, do you really, honestly, think that the Gestapo would kill a German girl and then leave her in the street?"

"If she was caught helping Jews, yes. But-"

"But the Gestapo officer who stopped her was shot and killed also." He tapped the newspaper. He was right, the man who'd killed Corinna had also died from a gunshot, but no one knew by whom. "And this was Berlin in the forties. Everyone knew everyone. Someone had to have seen her and buried her."

"But if they didn't-"

"Then it would be Kitty Genovese twenty years before Kitty Genovese." Ziva nodded, confused.

"What is Kitty Geno...vese?" Tim glanced at her.

"She was..." He stopped, thinking. "Never mind. I'll explain it later." He turned back to the paper. "My point is that if their obituaries are in the paper, then someone who knew them had to have found their bodies at liberation, brought them back and buried them. That means, if they're buried in a _cemetery_-"

"We can locate their graves." She finished. He nodded, before turning back to the paper.

"There it is-" He furrowed a brow, struggling to read it before turning to Ziva. "My German isn't getting any better, Zia. What is that word?" She looked at him, raising an eyebrow, a grin tugging at her mouth.

"You need a teacher, Tim." He made a face in response.

"I have a teacher, thank you very much. Not that she's taught me much of anything." It was her turn to make a face.

"I am a _very_ good teacher. Perhaps you just need the right motivation." She leaned close, capturing his lips in a soft kiss. He 'hmmed' softly against her lips, making her grin.

"With that motivation I think we could work something out." Their lips met in another kiss, and she reached up, tangling her fingers in his hair. With one last soft kiss, he pulled away, turning back to the obituaries. She sighed, reading it silently before,

"_'... Henrik and Anneliese Fromm were sent to Auschwitz-Birkeneau in February forty-four, having been caught protecting our Jewish brethren. While reports are unclear in regards to the Jews Henrik and Anneliese were helping, it has been confirmed that their daughter, Corinna, was murdered by the Gestapo in March of last year. It is believed that she and her brother, Adrian, had taken over their parents' cause and that Corinna was most likely shot as they were helping her brother get the Jews out of Berlin. She, as well as her parents, have since been buried within Weißensee Cemetery, among the Jews of whose descendants they have given their lives to protect...'_" Tim pulled her closer, and she stopped, sighing. "It says they examined the bodies- Henrik had a bullet wound in his head, and Anneliese had been sent to the... the gas chambers..." She swallowed, turning to him. He reached up, brushing at the tears on her cheeks.

He rested his forehead to hers, before pulling away. "What was the name of that cemetery again?" She turned back to the paper.

"_Weißensee_ Cemetery. It's a... a Jewish cemetery here in Berlin. It's... I think the... the second largest in Europe." She replied, turning back to him. "Why?" He grinned- it was the smile she had grown to recognize while on this case; the one Tim got whenever his mind was attaching questioning pieces together. "Tim, what are you thinking?"

But all he did was press a kiss to her forehead. "Tomorrow, we're gonna find that cemetery, Zia."


	67. Chapter 67

**Rifiuto: Non Miriena**

****A/N: Again, this jumps ahead... *turns to see mug being held out. What's this?****

****~ Cocoa with marshmallows and cinnamon.****

****I can see that. What I want to know is why? ****

****~ *shrugs* It's raining. We have a fire going. We're both in our pajamas... we're working on this... why not enjoy it?****

*****takes mug, and pulls her close* Thank you. *slides free hand down to her waist to pull her closer*****

****~ *pushes hand away* Don't. *pulls away and goes into living room, collapses on sofa* ****

****Z... well, cocoa and a fire with rain in the background is a start, right?****

_"In my fantasies, I was always caught up in heroic struggles, and I saw myself saving lives, sacrificing myself for others. I had far loftier ambitions than mere romance."_

_- Irene Gut Opdyke (1918 - 2003), Polish Nurse who Saved 16 Jews by Becoming the Mistress of the Nazi Officer whose House she Cleaned & Hid the Jews in_

The German Countryside

November 1944

_They had been forced to flee through the countryside in the months since Cora's death; threat of Nazis searching abandoned barns and homes and coming the fields spread far and wide, with the sound of wheels or the smell of blood drifting on the wind- it wasn't uncommon for them to pass through a small village out in the countryside, seek shelter for a night, and then be off in the early hours, racing for the next hiding place before their temporary hosts were up. Except by now, winter was settling in, and it was getting harder and harder to find shelter or people willing to let them stay for a nights, they hid out in the woods around the villages they passed through, keeping close together and telling stories to keep each others' spirits up._

_So it was one chilly winter November afternoon, and the four survivors- for that's what Conrad insisted they think of themselves as; they had survived everything thrown at them so far- huddled together in the barn of an elderly Russian couple who'd agreed to let them stay for a couple days, not wanting to see them out where they could be caught. In exchange, the four helped with the chores- Zara had helped the older woman make dinner, listening as the woman spoke about her own experiences fleeing the Russian empire as a young woman, when the dynasty fell and revolution took hold. At one point, she tapped Zara's hand, catching her eye as she spoke, wagging the small knife she was using to peel potatoes._

_"Remember, to survive is to make you strong. To survive death is to make you appreciate the life you have left to live."_

_Zara had nodded, silent, and returned to kneading her bread._

_Dinner had been silent, and after, the four had retired to the barn, thanking their hosts and wishing them a good night, but none slept much. It was around seven the next morning that the sound of footsteps could be heard, followed by shouting, and they all knew what it was. Adrian turned to the others, his mind struggling to work out the best way for them all to get out alive. Finally, he turned to Zara. "You have to get out. You and Eva take my bike and go; don't look back." Zara glanced first at the bike resting against the far wall, before turning back to him._

_"No."_

_"Zara, don't argue, please, we don't have time!" _

_"No, Adrian! Either we all go, or none of us go at all." He growled, kicking at the hay before turning on her._

_"Gott verdammt, Zara! We don't have time to argue! Now go!" But she stood her ground, meeting his gaze. In two strides, he stood before her, taking her hands in his. "I am not going to lose you because of your own stubbornness. I'd rather give my own life so that I know you could live-"_

_Neither noticed Conrad glance at Chava. A moment passed, before the other young man went and got the bike. He walked the bike towards Chava, kneeling down to whisper something to her. The child- always perceptive- glanced at her sister and Adrian, before nodding. He nodded his agreement, and then slipped his coat off and draped it over Chava's small shoulders. He then took the scarf around his neck and slipped it over her head, tucking her hair beneath it before knotting it in the back. Once done, he made his way to the door, pulling it open slightly and peeking out. It was the sound of the barn door opening that ended Zara and Adrian's quiet argument. _

_"Hey! Con, what are you doing?" He turned as his friend rushed to him. "We need to close that-" But Conrad pushed him away. _

_"They're going to catch us anyway, Ad. Someone has to make a distraction so you and Zara can get away." _

_That stopped Adrian in his tracks. "What do you mean 'get away'? Con, what the hell are you planning." The other young man glanced over his friend's shoulder at Zara, who's dark eyes were moving swiftly back and forth, taking everything; sudden realization filled her features, and she cried out, covering her mouth with her hands and shaking her head. _

_"No... no! Not Chava! If you use anyone as a distraction, you use me, Conrad!" Adrian turned to her, brow furrowing. _

_"Will someone please fill me in here!" Conrad sighed, glancing at Chava. _

_"If we all stay here, then we're all going to get caught, Ad. Eva and I are going to provide a distraction, so that they go after us, and with any luck, that will give you and Zara enough time to flee." Adrian turned to Zara. Tears streamed down her cheeks, and closed her eyes, her shoulders shaking. _

_"No. Con, I can't let you do this-" _

_"Damn it, Adrian, get it through that dome of yours!" He went to his best friend, taking his face in his hands in order to get him to pay attention. "Not all of us are going to survive this. Hitler is bound and determined to destroy an entire race to get what he wants. If we can do even one thing to stop him- no matter how small- don't you think it's worth it? You and Zara have know how to survive better than any of us. Now, I want you both to wait ten minutes after we leave the barn; by then, we should have the officers distracted, and after ten minutes, you run out the back of the barn. Run for the woods and don't stop, no matter what happens or who comes after you, am I clear? You keep running, no matter what."_

_"But Eva, she's-"_

_"I know. And she knows. She wants to do this, Ad. Let her." When he pulled away, he went to Chava, who rushed to her sister; Zara knelt down, wrapping her sister in a hug. Their conversation was quiet, hurried Polish, an argument if the boys had to guess. But finally, Chava leaned up, pressing a firm kiss to her sister's cheek, before pulling away and rushing to Adrian. She threw her arms around his waist, hugging him tightly, and after a moment, he knelt down and hugged her back. Their gazes met, and she leaned close, pressing a kiss to his cheek as well. _

_"Toda azor lanu, Adrian." She whispered, before pulling away. Though he didn't know the words, the meaning was clear, Thank you for helping us. He turned to Zara, who stood watching her sister rush to Conrad. The two spoke softly for a moment, before Conrad went to Adrian and pulled him into a hug, whispering something to him before making his way to Zara. He pulled Zara into a hug. _

_"I'll watch out for her, Zara. I promise." She nodded against his shoulder, breaking down. After he pulled away, he pressed a soft kiss to her forehead, before returning to Chava. The girl sat perched on the bike, waiting for Conrad to give her the signal. A moment passed before he nodded. He pushed the door open further and slipped out, making his way towards the officers, nodding for Chava to o do as they'd disgussed. With one last glance at her sister, she left the barn, disappearing from sight. Adrian went to Zara, pulling her into his arms, Con's words in his head. _

_Once the ten minutes had passed, they snuck out the back, hands linked. As they made a run for the forests as Con had instructed, Zara stopped, hearing the shouting. Gunshots soon rang out, followed by the smell of smoke. "Zara, come on!" _

_"No, my sister-" _

_"Zara, we can't! We have to go!" He tugged, dragging her until her feet began to move again. _

_As they dashed towards the woods, a girl's scream reached their ears- neither had any way of knowing that it was Chava, caught by one of the officers, being yanked from Adrian's bike and taken to the cart where several other Jews and their helpers- along with Conrad- had been placed, bound for the camps. They had no way of knowing that the two gunshots that had rung out were the bullets entering the skulls of the elderly couple who had helped them- dragged from their home and shot before the other villagers; or that the smell of smoke was the barn they'd fled from moments later, igniting and burning to the ground, the first of the buildings in the small village to burn, nor did they know that by evening, the entire village would be ash, the inhabitants either dead or carted off to the camps for helping Jews. _

_They dashed into the woods, hands locked tight together, the smell of smoke and gunpowder, the sound of German shouting and the ripple of gunshots following, as the trucks carried hordes of Jews and helpers alike to the camps, or that the remains of the bike that had saved Adrian's life on multiple occasions over the last three years- the same bike that had given the Gestapo a distraction while they got away- now lay twisted and mangled among the burning village as German trucks drove over it, taking their captured prey to what, for millions, would be their final resting place. _


	68. Chapter 68

**Rifiuto: Non Miriena**

_"Stand up for what you believe in even if you are standing alone."_

_- Sophie Scholl (1921 - 1943)_

_Weißensee Cemetery_

_Weißensee, Berlin_

_Germany_

_11:00 A.M._

It had been Ziva who'd woken at seven; despite the morning sickness that came with various other pregnancy symptoms, she'd wanted a little playtime, and had made sure Tim knew it. He gave it to her, knowing that they'd spend the majority of their day traipsing around a Jewish cemetery looking for headstones that they weren't even sure were there.

Now, Tim followed behind, watching as Ziva bounded among the headstones, running her fingers over the worn surfaces or stopping to read a name. He chuckled softly, pulling out his camera and snapping a few shots of her as she dashed around the cemetery like a child in a toy store. One image stopped him in his tracks- she knelt by one stone, her fingers tracing over the name. As he joined her, she looked up, tears in her eyes. He knelt beside her, removing his camera from around his neck and setting it beside him. "Hey, Zia, what's wrong?" She sniffled, nodding towards the stone.

"I found it. I... I found Corinna's stone." He turned to the stone, but found the name in both Hebrew and German.

"How do you know it's her stone?" She chuckled softly.

"Because of the menorah." He looked at the stone; it was then that he saw the menorah at the top of the stone. "See, in my tradition, it is not common to see a seven branch menorah- it was a symbol of the Temple of Solomon and is prohibited. So, it is more common to see a three branch or a five branch menorah- like this one, and they are placed on the headstones of "righteous" women. Henrik and Anneliese are beside her." She nodded towards the two stones to Tim's right, and he turned, seeing the same Hebrew and German upon the stones, as well as a five-branched menorah on the one beside him.

"But why are they buried here? They're Germans."

Ziva sniffled, a small smile coming to her features as she reached up, tracing her fingers over the _Tzedakah_- a box that symbolized righteousness or obligation, though now it was more associated with charity. She glanced at Anneliese and Henrik's stones; all three had the small boxes carved on them, though only Anneliese and Corinna's stones had the menorah's resting atop them. "These symbol righteousness by obligation." She brushed her figners over the box on Corinna's stone.

"Okay, but Ziva, that doesn't answer my question."

But she ignored him, her fingers moving down to trace the letters of the girl's name. Eventually, her whisper reached his ears,

"They were buried here... for their sacrifice. Because they... because they helped Jews, the Jewish community... buried them in their cemetery..." She turned to him. "It's to acknowledge that the Jewish community recognizes them as... as part of their community."

"You mean... like converting them?" Ziva shook her head.

"Not quite. By burying them here, they are... looked on as posthumous members of the Jewish community for their actions in the help of saving Jews during the Second War."

"So... kind of like when Hitler made the Japanese Honorary Aryans in order to a-line the Germans with the Japanese?" Ziva met his gaze, eyes narrowing as she thought it over.

"Kind of."

Tim reached out and took her hand. "Let me get this straight- because Corinna and her parents helped Jews and paid for it with their lives, the Jewish community buried them in their cemetery, making them Honorary Jews?"

Ziva nodded, sliding her fingers through his. "Ken. In the eyes of the Jewish community, they are Jewish, for their actions during the Shoah."

Tim clicked his tongue, thinking. "That's nice, but we're missing four pieces of the puzzle."

"What pieces?" He raised an eyebrow.

"We still don't know happened to Adrian or the Hirsch sisters, or even how Conrad ended up in the camps. I mean, it's highly likely that he was taken with the Fromms when the Gestapo came that night, because he said he was there, but he never officially said." Ziva sighed, climbing to her feet. Tim followed, and she stood back, allowing him to get shots of the stones for their growing puzzle. When they were finished, they returned to the hotel, grabbing lunch and taking it back to their room and changing into sweats.

They got back to the hotel just as the skies ripped open; rain soon beat at the windows and began to splatter the streets. Tim pulled the curtains in both the bedroom and the living area, before going back to the bedroom. They'd spread their evidence out on the bed, and were looking through it, trying to put more of the pieces together. But when he stepped into the room, he found Ziva sitting in the middle of the bed, legs crossed, hands moving over her belly. She stared at the papers, though she didn't really see them, and only looked up when he shut the door softly behind him. He gave her a soft smile before joining her on the bed. Silently, Ziva lifted her shirt, looking down at her belly.

She did the math in her head, though she'd done it a thousand times before already. When Tim had talked to Gibbs... it was almost two months. But now... she shook her head; the days had slid into one another continuously for both of them, but if her math was correct- and she couldn't be positive, for math wasn't her strong suite- then she was getting close to three months, if not already_ at_ three months and sliding towards four. But she just couldn't remember.

Tim chuckled, settling beside her. He reached out, resting his hand over hers, against the gentle slope that now was evidently her stomach. He leaned close, brushing a kiss to her cheek with a whispered,

"Look's like someone's got a tummy."

She giggled, meeting his gaze before leaning up and capturing his lips in a kiss.


	69. Chapter 69

**Rifiuto: Non Miriena**

**A/N: Chava's fate won't be known for a couple chapters yet... and again****, this chapter skips ahead for a reason... one that Z will kill me for if I post this without letting her read it first. For some reason, she thinks she needs to _screen_ my love scenes. And for those that have read Z's Finding Home series, you'll get the snake/cave reference.**

**~ That's because _you_ can't write romance.**

**Oh, and _you_ can? *glances over shoulder at where she's stretched out on bed, reading _The Book Thief_* I thought you were reading _Dovekeepers_.**

**~ Put it down for a while. Besides, we just watched the movie, and I wanted to read the book.**

***rolls eyes* Whatever. Okay, everyone, here's the next chapter-**

**~ Wait! Let me read it first. *tosses book aside and stretches out beside***

**Must you?**

**~ Why not? I let you read my chapters... wait, go back, I want to read the chapters before this. *watches her scroll back to 67, waits for her finish***

**Are you- ow! What the hell was that for?**

**~ You got rid of Cora!_ And_ Conrad! You_ bastard_! *gets up and scrambles back towards the head of the bed***

**Z! Okay, fine, can I post this chapter, please?**

**~ No!**

**And why not? *no reply* Whatever, I'm posting it. Ow! Would you stop?**

**~ Don't you _dare_ post that chapter! I haven't read it yet-**

**And you're not going to. *moves laptop out of the way as she dives for computer, and then slips leg around hers and pulls her closer.***

**~ Give me the lapt-**

***leans close and kisses her before hitting '_post_'***

**Thank to sintija2001 for reviewing 68 and Reader for reviewing 66, 67 and 68.**

_"When you have decided, act."_

_- Christoph Probst (1918 - 1943), One of the Core members of the White Rose_

German Countryside

Mid-December, 1944

_Weeks had passed since the roundup, since Chava and Conrad had given themselves over so Adrian and Zara could escape. They- like hundreds of others on the run from the Gestapo- spent the time going from fields to forests to abandoned houses and barns, doing their best to avoid capture. They were careful to avoid asking for help, the memory of the last time they'd asked still fresh in their minds. They'd spent days in the woods, nights dashing across fields and hiding in ditches to avoid Nazis that came out and searched for Jews._

_So it was one winter afternoon when they found a small abandoned house, tucked back right against the woods. Had they not been desperate to get away from the snow that was swirling around them, they'd have continued on, but the house had been so... available... they decided it would probably be best to stay, if only for the night. Whomever had owned it before had left everything as was- fire stacked by the fireplace, blankets and a bed, as well as a bit of food and some water. If anything, it looked like this was a regular stop for those fleeing Nazis._

_Once the fire was built up, Adrian joined her, grabbing one of the blankets off the bed and pulling her close before wrapping it around them. With the exception of the crackling wood, the night was silent. A moment passed, before he glanced at her. "I'm sorry, Zara." She met his gaze._

_"For what?" He sighed and got up, beginning to pace._

_"For costing you your sister and... and just for everything you've gone through in the last-"_

_"Adrian, you did not cost me anything that was not already taken from me." She stood, going to him, the blanket still around her shoulders. "Abba and Ima and Miram and Levi were already taken from me the moment they sealed us in the ghetto. And... you gave Chava and I safety, even if it was only for a few months. And Chava..." She lowered her gaze, thinking. "Chava did... as Cora did... sh... she chose... to... to give me a chance... she knew..." She stopped, her lower lip quivering. And then she began to cry, and he wrapped her in his arms._

_Her sobs tore at his heart, and he rocked her gently back and forth, humming softly to her. He wasn't sure how long they stood there, but when she finally pulled away, the temperature had dropped exponentially, the fire having nearly burned out. He pulled away to add another log to it, but she grabbed his hand, stopping him. He met her gaze; she was raw, emotionally spent and mentally exhausted- her eyes conveyed it all. A moment passed before she tugged him back to her. He went willingly, seeing something in her eyes he knew was reflected in his own._

_Dwindling hope._

_They'd lived like this for so long, that it seemed as though they were watching themselves from pedestals. Every move, every glance, every whispered word was filled with the same: fear, calm, and the calculating knowledge that they could very well not wake to see tomorrow._

_And frankly, he was sick of it. For one night, he didn't want fear to rule them, and so he did the only thing he could think of._

_He kissed her._

_She responded just as deeply, just as hungrily. The blanket slid from her shoulders, but he caught it as his arms slid around her waist. He lifted her slightly off the ground, and after he pulled away, she met his gaze. This time, it was her turn to take control, and as their lips met once more, she found herself walking him back towards the small bedroom. The door remained open, despite no fire burning in the fireplace, and they'd been careful to block the front door with a small table, just in case- though it as a safe bet that no one would be out in the coming storm. But with the near misses in the last few days, they didn't want to take any chances._

_Mouths still occupied, he tossed the blanket on the bed, and then reached for the buttons of her blouse-_

_She pulled away, suddenly aware of what they were about to do and who they were. She stumbled back. "No, I... I cannot let you do this, Adrian."_

_"Do what, Zara?" He asked, confused as to the look on her face. She took a deep breath._

_"We cannot share a bed-"_

_"Because you're a Jew?" He scoffed as he made his way towards her, taking her hands. "Zara, I don't care if you're Jew or German or... cat." She allowed the tiniest of smiles to flit across her face. "I care that you are you, and all that matters right now is that I love you." He reached up, brushing a stray strand behind her ear. "And... if you'll let me... I want to show you."_

_She met his gaze, finding what she'd known had been in his heart for months. He meant every word. But still, the Nazis' unspoken laws dictated her response, and she slowly pulled her hands away. She bit her lip, thinking. What did she do? She wanted this, for she'd felt the same way for months. However, instead of acting on instinct, she asked,_

_"You... you would... allow a Jewess to..." She swallowed, whispering. "To contaminate your bed?"_

_He shook his head, moving to her. "Zara, you wouldn't be contaminating anything, least of all me." He reached for her, but she backed up, fear in her eyes. He sighed. "It's not contamination, Zara. It's love." And before she could speak, his mouth crashed onto hers and he pulled her closer._

_They soon fell among the blankets, fingers working on removing clothing and mouths tasting and exploring. He reached up, pulling her hair free so that it tumbled down her back in long, tangled, dark curls, which he buried his fingers in. His mouth moved down her neck, tasting the pulse of her throat before moving down to drink in the soft flesh of her breasts. She gasped as the chilly air met her nipples, causing them to harden, and released a soft sigh as his mouth found the hardened buds and teased them. Her hands trailed down his back, skimming over the slope of his buttocks before moving around to trace the seam of his sack._

_As he pushed her gently into the bed and settled himself between her legs, he pulled away, tugging her lower lip gently with his teeth. Their eyes locked, and she licked her lips. He rested his forehead to hers, taking a deep breath before whispering,_

_"I'm so sorry, Zara. I don't mean to hurt you. That's the last thing I want to do-" She caught his mouth in a soft kiss._

_"Shh, Ahava. Hush, my Adrian. I have been wanting this hurt from the moment we met." She kissed him again. "This is one pain I embrace."_

_Their mouths met at the same moment their bodies collided; he pushed against her, brushing against the bundle of nerves between her thighs before he met her resistance. Her eyes snapped shut as her body naturally tensed as he pushed against her, trying to be gentle despite her acceptance of the pain bound to follow. _Instantly, the story Ima had told her- of what happened when men and women shared a bed- came flooding back into her memory. __

_Softly, Ima had then proceeded to tell her of the snakes men possessed and how they often searched for the perfect cave in which to settle; how when a snake found its cave, there was a boulder it would be forced to break away before it could settle inside. Though the girl had been no older than ten, she'd understood- for it would be common for boys her age to corner the girls in school and ask to see them in exchange for showing theirs. She of course has never taken part, but she knew of what the snakes looked like; she had walked in on Levi bathing one day as a child. It hadn't scared her, just made her curious, and cautious. _

_ A moment passed, and she pulled away, turning her face from his kiss briefly, a hiss escaping her vocal chords, followed by a cry of surprise as she felt what Ima had told her when she'd begun her menstruation- the sharp sting as his snake began breaking the boulder between her legs in order to enter her cave. She dug her short nails into his back, cutting into the flesh and drawing small crescents of blood. He brushed his nose against hers, apologizing softly against her lips as he continued to move into her; she caught his lips in a kiss, stopping his apologies.  
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_Eventually, the sting of him breaking her eased, and she relaxed into his movements; she soon began to reciprocate his touches and kisses, her fingers moving over his skin and tangling in his hair as he continued pushing into her. She had known that he would soon settle within her, but she hadn't expected such thickness-_

_A soft moan escaped her throat as he hit a certain spot, and she arched her back, melding her body to his as they reached the same pace. Slowly, her knees moved to rest against his sides, and as he continued deeper into her and their pace quickened, she tightened her hold on his hips. Their lips met in a deep, searching kiss, and for the first time in months since this... quest for survival had started, she stopped thinking of where they would need to go next or how they would survive or exactly when they would be captured. She only focused on Adrian and his taste and the feel of his skin beneath her fingers and the pleasure he was sharing with her as they joined as one._

_Finally, their cries for each other drowned out even the soft falling of the snow outside and the dying of the embers in the fireplace; she reached for him, her hands moving up to close his eyes and cover his face. As they came down from their high, she slowly moved her hands from his face, running her fingers through his hair. He slowly moved his gaze down to meet hers, and after a moment, he leaned down, capturing her lips in gentle kiss that slid into several. With his body resting comfortably on hers, his snake nestled comfortably between her legs, within the warmth of her cave, he pulled away, nudging his nose to hers before stealing another soft kiss and burying his face in her hair, his arms moving up to wrap around her neck. She nuzzled her nose into his hair, sliding her own arms over his neck, their hands tangling together._

_As they basked in the soft contentment, and soon slept in each others' arms, Ima's words came running back to her._

_"You must be careful, my Zara, for once a snake finds its cave, it will place a claim upon it that will change your life in ways that, if you are not careful, can bring a change you may not be ready for. You are still young, and a change like that could change the course of your destiny."_


	70. Chapter 70

**Rifiuto: Non Miriena**

**A/N: You still can't write love scenes.**

**~ *turns to her* And why is that? Because I'm male or because men can't be romantic? **

***thinks about it* Bit of both. **

**~ *narrows eyes at her* That's not what you were saying six years ago when we first started dating. All I_ did_ was romance you. **

** Yeah... it was very... _50 Shades of Grey_ meets every Disney Princess movie ever made with the exception of _Frozen_. The silk scarves were a nice touch, though. **

**~ Hey, _you_ said you wanted to try the whole bondage thing; I just went along with it. You know I'm not into that stuff. **

**So you're _not_ my Christian Grey? **

**~ *winces* Please tell me you aren't interested in that stupid book. **

***laughs* God, no. Read the whole trilogy once because I was bored waiting for dance to start. And the only reason I'm reading it now is because it's the subject of my paper for my human sexuality class. Well... bondage and S&M and if it's a legitimate pathology or if it's just myth. *slides arms around his waist, pulls him close* **

**And what do you think? **

***thinks* I don't know yet. Haven't finished the paper. **

_"The sound of natural things was wonderful to us. In the middle of all the suffering, it seemed pure, untouched."_

_- Diet Eman (1920 -), Member of Group Hein, the Dutch Resistance _

_Berlin, Germany_

_1630 Liepziger Straße_

_Four Days Later_

_10:00 A.M._

Tim and Ziva had informed Gibbs and NCIS of the happenings in Germany, though they'd neglected to tell them of the millions as well as the estate now in their name. Neither were exactly sure how to broach the topic of them now having inherited millions from a Holocaust survivor. Nor did they exactly know how to tell Gibbs or Director Shepard of the baby slowly making its presence known within Ziva's expanding middle. But neither were much concerned with either of those questions- their main focus was filling in this puzzle from the Holocaust and catching the Zane's killer.

They had gotten up at seven, dressed, gotten coffee and pastries and then come to the townhouse to do some more research. They'd laid what they had on the living room floor and then gone in search of new clues. Tim had disappeared upstairs around eight-fifteen and then come back down about nine, telling her he was going to make a quick coffee run, to which she agreed. She'd studied the files for several minutes once he left, before she'd picked up the ring, grabbed a flashlight, and headed upstairs to do some searching of her own.

Her feet led her to Adrian's room, and the hole within his wall. She turned the flashlight on, shining it into the space. If she could just get into the hole, then she could examine it closer-

She looked around, before dragging the desk chair towards the wall and climbing onto it. She was careful as she stepped into the hole, and once inside, she looked around, drinking in as much as the small circle of light would allow. Her fingers trailed over the inside wall, before she glanced down. There was a bundle of blankets and a few pillows in the far corner where Tim had found the chest with the ring. Her gaze moved to the ring in her hand, and after a moment, she went to the bundle, settling on her knees to study her find.

The material was worn and faded, yellowing in places, and thin. Her fingers skimmed over them, leaving a trail in the dust. She then lifted the ring to study it; this had to be the ring- though why someone would hide a ring with what looked like a lily on top within a wall, Ziva couldn't even begin to understand. She turned the ring over, studying it carefully.

_"It is Cora's ring, Chava, you cannot keep it, even if she let you. You must give it back to her." _

_"I will give it back tomorrow, Zahrah." _

_"And where are you going to put it until then?" _

_"In the chest, with the things we brought when we left." _

"Playing hide and seek by yourself?" She let out a squeak, turning in search of the voice. Climbing to her feet, she returned to the hole to find Tim staring at her, one eyebrow raised.

"I..." She stopped, glancing back at the pillows. "I know whose ring this is, Tim." He furrowed a brow. "Help me out."

_He lifted her out, their bodies colliding softly as she slipped; his arm went around her waist as he caught her, and he found his own mouth dangerously close to her lips._

He took her waist, lifting her out of the hole and setting her back on her feet with a soft grunt. "That baby is making you heavy, Zia, you know that?" He joked softly, and she gently smacked his shoulder.

"I'm serious, Tim. I know who owned this ring, and it was not Adrian."

She pirouetted on her heel, heading back downstairs. Tim watched her go, noticing the shift in her weight as she moved. He chuckled softly, unable to contain the thought that pregnancy was actually doing wonderful things for Ziva- she was calmer, quieter, more thoughtful than she had been when they'd first met and started working on this case. Add in that she was slowly becoming all soft curves and smooth edges, as well as her increasing appetites and...

"Are you coming?" He shook his head, making his way out of the room and towards the landing. Ziva stood at the bottom of the stairs, having found the coffee he'd brought back from the small pastry shop a couple blocks away.

"All right, Zia, fill me in on what you know. Who does that ring belong to?" He asked, making his way down the stairs and joining her. She held out a pamphlet on the White Rose. He took it, confused. "What's this?"

"It is a museum pamphlet on the White Rose. It was a-"

"Yeah, I know what it is; we learned about this when we first started looking into this mystery. It was the group Adrian had joined at Munich University. But... what's this got to do with the ring?" She opened the pamphlet, pointing to an image.

"This is _not_ Adrian's ring. _Every member_ of the White Rose received a small silver ring with a rose carved of ivory and white pearl on it. Adrian was a member, so we _know_ he_ had_ to have received one."

"So whose ring is that?" He asked, pointing to the one she held. She glanced at it, a smile on her face.

"It was _Cora's_."


	71. Chapter 71

**Rifiuto: Non Miriena**

**A/N: What did you do, Ev? Get her pregnant? **

**~ *shakes head, disgusted* The way you said that was just so... _wrong_.**

*******reads Chapter 71* **You _didn't_. ***turns to him* You... _rat bastard_! **

**~ God, so violent! And why are you acting like I got another_ girl_ pregnant? It's a _character_ in a_ fan fi_****_ction story_, Z. It's not real li- *realizes* Wait. You're jealous, aren't you? **

**You are _sick_, you know that? You are a _sick, twisted_ man! *storms off***

**~ What did_ I_ do? *shakes head* What the _Hell_ is her _problem_?**

_"Even though Anne was almost ten years younger than I was, at times I almost had the inclination to tell her things that were very private. I know that she valued hearing about such intimacies. She asked me very personal questions on a number of occasions. I resisted telling her everything because I knew she was keeping a diary and I didn't want her to write about personal matters, which I might have revealed."_

_- Elizabeth "Bep" Voskuijl (1919 - 1983), One of the Helpers who Hid Anne Frank and her Family in the Secret Annex_

German Countryside

Mid- January, 1945

_German winters could be harsh, and Adrian and Zara found that they were unable to leave the small house they'd taken shelter in nearly a month earlier. No one, man nor beast, would be caught outside at this time of the season, so they stayed put, spending their days talking or cleaning- because there wasn't much to do- and their nights sharing the same bed, curled around each other; sometimes, they'd move to lie in front of the burning fire, and oftentimes- either before the fire or within the bed- they would spend their nights making love, reveling in that carnal nature that joined two souls together through one passionate, bonding it was one morning in mid-January that they found themselves facing a challenge that would no doubt complicate their escape further._

_He went to her, holding out a mug of tea- there was a tin in one of the cupboards- which she took with a soft smile. He joined her, taking a sip of his tea before he asked, _

_"Are you okay?" _

_She swallowed, staring into her tea. "I... I have missed my Niddah." _

_He furrowed a brow. "Ah... I'm sorry?" It was then that she met his gaze, and he could see the tears shimmering in her eyes. _

_"It is my..." But she stopped, shaking her head. With a sniffle, she looked up at him, choking out, "I am pregnant." She reached up, swiping at the tears that slid down her cheeks. "We have created a child together." She set her cup down and stood, going into the small kitchen area. Adrian soon joined her, reaching out to rest a hand on her shoulder when she spun on him. "Do not touch me! Touching me is what resulted in this herayon in the first place!"_

_He stepped back, confused by the simple Hebrew term, but kept quiet and let her be. She wrapped her arms around her middle, doubling over and choking on a sob. He let her be, and after a moment, she looked up, shaking her head. "Zara-" This time, when he went to her, she reached for him, burying her face in his chest as soft sobs wrenched themselves from her throat. "I'm so sorry. You were right, we shouldn't have-"_

_She shook her head, looking up at him. "No. I wanted it as much as you. And we had been denying ourselves of the chance for months, it was bound to happen. I do not regret such at act with you. And I never will." He rested his forehead to hers, pulling her close. "But what do we do now, Adrian? How are we going to-" She stopped, pulling away and returning to the fire. She took a seat in front of the fire, becoming lost in thought._

_"Zara?" He was getting worried about her. She'd been closing herself off more and more over the last several weeks- not just because of this startling news- and he was afraid she'd one day go mute and never speak again. It wasn't long before he joined her, taking a seat beside her. "Talk to me, please."_

_She met his gaze. "I do not understand."_

_"What don't you-"_

_"I do not understand how God could do this to us." She took a deep breath, fresh tears sliding down her cheeks. "We are the chosen people. He chose us and yet..."_

_Her gaze moved to the window by the door; he knew she was thinking of her parents, her older siblings, of Chava. All of whom had sacrificed their lives for freedom, for her, and now, here she was, running from the Nazis; both of them stuck in this cabin. And upon having given into their desire for each other, there was now a new life residing within her- the irony of ironies. That her family- that his- could give their lives for freedom from the Nazis while they had done nothing but create a new life that would be born within the terror of Hitler's regime, should he succeed in domination._

_"Zara-"_

_"And yet, he allows for his people to be destroyed..." She met his gaze, and it was in that moment, that he realized what she'd already accepted._

_She'd given up on her faith._

_He swallowed; he knew how important her faith had been to her- it had most likely gotten both her and Chava through their journey through the sewers of Warsaw when they fled the uprising. It must have gotten her family through their years of persecution, through the abuse of the ghetto, through the uprising itself. It had, in some small part, gotten her through the days of hiding with his family, and no doubt gotten her through their fleeing the village that day... _

_She scoffed, disgusted and pulled one of the blankets around her shoulders. "God? What God? God would not allow this to happen. He would not allow his people to suffer at the hands of that... mamzer." She spit the word, as though it choked off her air. And then, she turned back to watch the flames, her voice soft. "There is no God, just as there is no messiah." _

_Adrian sighed. He knew that part of this was due to the discovery of her pregnancy, as well as the stress everything and the severity of their situation. But he also knew that he couldn't let her give up on what was such an important part of her life. He moved closer, taking a deep breath. "Zara, you can't think like that." She turned to look at him. _

_"And why can I not, Adrian? God has taken everything from me. My home, my community, my family..." Her lower lip began to quiver. "My very identity. He has taken everything and given me nothing in return that I am grateful for or that I can call my own. So why should I not think that way?" _

_He reached out, lifting her chin when she lowered her head. "He gave you shelter when you had none, people willing to die for you and your sister. He gave you a chance to live... and he gave us this chance... this baby... he gave us both this baby." She shook her head, but he tightened his grasp on her chin. "He gave you me." His voice was soft as he pulled her closer. "He gave you me, Zara." She burst into tears, throwing her arms around his neck and burying her face in his shoulder._


	72. Chapter 72

**Rifiuto: Non Miriena**

**A/N: Sorry guys, we've been trying to keep this under 100 chapters... but it's not working out like we hoped. **

**~ It wasn't going to work like we hoped anyway. **

***punches him in the arm* Shut up, Evan. **

**~ Ow. What was that for? Besides, you know your stories never manage to stay below 50 anyway. I don't think you have a single story on this site- NCIS or otherwise- that's below 15 chapters. Oh, don't look at me in that tone of voice, you know I'm right.**

***punches him harder before getting up off floor and going into the kitchen* You're a rat bastard, you know that? **

**~ So you keep telling me. *under breath* Uptight bitch.**

**I hate you. **

**~ *rolls eyes* No, she doesn't. I love you. **

**Bite me! **

**~ Yeah, she'll be saying that when she sees what I've placed in her tea canister. *looks up at shuffling***

**Ev... are you... are you _serious_? *holds out ring***

**~ *gets up and goes to her* What do you think? *ducks down to meet her gaze* Z? You okay? **

***looks up, throws arms around his neck and kisses him***

**~ *slips arms beneath her thighs and adjusts hold on her* So I take it that's a yes? **

***grins* What do _you_ think?**

_"Escape was not our goal since it was so unrealistic. What we wanted was to survive, to live long enough to tell the world what had happened in Buchenwald."_

_- Jack Werber (1914 - 2006), Holocaust Survivor who Saved more than 700 Children at Buchenwald_

_Berlin, Germany_

_die Weiße Rose Cafe_

_2:00 P.M._

"So... let me get this straight? The ring I found_ isn't_ Adrian's, it's Corinna's." Ziva nodded, taking a bite of her sandwich. "And the ring we're looking for was one Adrian received when he joined the White Rose in Munich?" She nodded again, as Tim took a sip of his coffee. They'd worked for nearly three hours before deciding to go get lunch at a small cafe not far from the townhouse.

"Yep." She took another bite of her salad, noticing that he wasn't eating. "Aren't you going to eat? Tim?" He looked up at her, wrenched from his thoughts.

"Sorry?"

"You were staring at your phone like it sold the answers to the universe. You have barely touched your sandwich- all you've touched is your coffee. Are you okay?" he nodded, biting his lip. She furrowed a brow. "What is it? What is wrong?"

He shook his head, giving her a small smile. "Nothing, Zia."

"Are you sure? Because you have to eat." She glanced at the pickle he hadn't touched. "Are you going to eat that?" It was his turn to stare at her. "The pickle." He made a face.

"I don't like pickles."

Her dark eyes darted from said pickle in question to his face and back. "Can I have it then?" He wrinkled his nose, disgusted.

"Have at it." She gave him a smile as she took the offending pickled cucumber from his plate and took a bite. He shook his head, before his gaze darted back to his phone.

"What are you looking at?"

"Nothing, just thinking."

"About what?" He sighed.

"The case. What could have happened to Zara and Adrian and the others. What we're going to tell Gibbs and Director Shepard." She nodded, taking another bite.

"Well stop thinking and eat. You need to." He chuckled.

"Mothering already, Zia?" She shrugged, licking the juice as it dribbled down her hand.

"No, what I am doing is eating. Have you noticed? I am eating _all the time_. Like, _always_. No matter what time it is. I'm always- always- eating! It is like I cannot stop."

"That's because our baby is growing in you. Needs the nutrients more than you do." He stopped, thinking. "Our baby. That's our baby growing in there." She reached out, taking his hand and squeezing gently. The tender moment, however, was jarred by the ringing of Tim's cell. He glanced at the ID and sighed. "Gibbs. I'm gonna go take this. I'll be right back, Zia." She nodded, accepting his kiss before he left.

Once he'd slipped out of the cafe, he moved towards a small planted tree, stopping beneath its shade. "McGee."

"How is the case going?" He bit his lip.

"It's going good, Boss. We still aren't sure who went after the Zanes, but we're getting closer on _what_ the Zanes were looking for."

"I know, you told me. Listen, Tim," He started, surprised to hear his boss use his given name for once. "You make sure you get Ziva some good prenatal care while you're over there." Tim's jaw dropped, and he struggled to think of what to say.

"How... how do you know..." Gibbs's silence on the other end of the line was unnerving- more so than it normally would be.

"It's Berlin. Just as romantic as Paris. And with the way you two acted in the bullpen when you first met, was bound to happen sooner or later. How far is she?" Tim sighed, still trying to get over his shock.

"Um... she saw the doctor a couple days ago... I think she said... four months or so... maybe four and a half... How did you find out about the baby?"

The silence that met him told him his answer, and really, he should know better by now.

It was Gibbs.

He knew everything.

"Well, you make sure she stays safe. Don't go dragging her into something that'll harm her or the baby." He nodded. "And you make sure she eats; it's important that she gets as much nutrients as she can." He chuckled.

"I know. And she is." He glanced back at the cafe. "All she does is eat." Gibbs chuckled.

"Yeah, pregnancy tends to do that to a woman." He soon turned serious. "Tim, if this case keeps going and it gets to the point where Ziva won't be able to come back because of the pregnancy, you stay. NCIS will make sure to accommodate for both of you on everything you'll need." He bit his lip.

"Um, Gibbs, actually, that's what Ziva and I need to tell you. We met a man who knew the Fromms- the family the Zanes were looking for- and he... he died a couple months ago after we met him, and he... he kind of... left Ziva and I his... his entire fortune." He waited for the onslaught, the lowered voice, but it never came. Instead, he got,

"Then you use it for what you need for Ziva and the baby. And don't worry about her father; Jenny and I will deal with Director_Da_vid." Tim nodded, too shocked at the fact that he hadn't been yelled at; but soon, something else made itself known in his mind.

_"Ziva's the daughter of the Director of Mossad?"_


	73. Chapter 73

**Rifiuto: Non Miriena**

**A/N: Chava and Conrad's chapter will be next...**

**Thanks to Sazzita for reviewing 70 and sintija2001 for reviewing 72. **

_"I smile and I think that one human being must always be discovering another - through love. And that this is the most important thing on earth, and the most lasting."_

_- Tadeusz Borowski (1922 - 1951), Polish Writer, Journalist and Survivor of Auschwitz and Dachau_

German Countryside

Second Week of May, 1945

_Winter lasted longer in early forty-five then Adrian ever remembered it lasting, as though God were punishing Germany for the destruction it was causing._

_And yet Zara had stopped believing in God._

_With each day they spent at the cabin thanks to the snow- and winter in Germany often lasted into late April- Zara grew. They had made the best of their situation, reminding each other every day that it was important they survive for the baby; that it depended on them. Soon, they developed a small routine, sharing coffee in front of the fire, fixing what they could find for a meal; if they could, they would slip outside and stretch their legs, gathering wood and checking that no one was coming down the field in search of them. But often times, they would stay within the cabin, sitting in front of the fire and talking or making love in the bedroom._

_Adrian had taken to watching her in the evenings as she sat by the fire and caressed her growing belly; there was something about the sight of Zara changing, of her belly swelling with their child that made Adrian wonder if this was what his father thought when his mother was pregnant with both him and Cora. At night, as he lay beside her in the bed, the blankets pulled tight over their bodies, he would brush his fingers over the growing swell of her belly, tracing patterns over the stretching skin, his mind racing with thoughts of the baby beneath his fingers. And always, at some time in the night, he would feel Zara reach down and take his hands, lacing their fingers._

_She looked up from the tea she was making; her hair was pulled back in a loose bun, with small strands clinging to her cheeks and neck. She was glowing and content for the moment, anyway. She'd had to loosen the waist of her dress, and he took in the small curve of her belly beneath the fabric. Her tummy wasn't very big, but it was there. He remembered when his mother was pregnant with Cora- she hadn't been very big at this time either, and Cora had been her second child. Maybe it was just the woman, and her body type, or how she carried herself. But either way, the sight beneath her dress brought a calm to him he couldn't explain. He gave her a soft smile, watching as she reached down to rest a hand to her belly._

_Their gazes locked, and she returned the smile, before setting the kettle down and doing the same with her other hand. She gently rubbed slow circles over her stomach, wincing. He chuckled, going to her and gently pushing her towards the small table they'd found toppled over when they first arrived. Once she was seated, he finished the tea, glancing over his shoulder at her. She was staring at the floor, lost in thought. He sighed, turning back to the window, and then quickly set the kettle down. Zara looked up. "Adrian, what is it?"Without a word, he made his way towards the from door and looking through the window. A moment passed, before he turned to Zara. She stood, going to him. "Adrian, talk to me-"_

_"Give me your locket."_

_She furrowed a brow. "What?"_

_"Just give me your locket, Zara, please!" Quickly, she removed the trinket from her neck, holding it out with a shaky hand._

_"I do not understand, Adrian, what is going on?" She watched as he took the necklace, and then returned to the kitchen, grabbing the kettle. Without a word, he quickly doused the flames in the fireplace, and then grabbed the poker. Once the embers were cool, he reached into the ashes and carved out a small hole. Then, he took the locket and set it within._

_"Zara, come here." She joined him, confused._

_"Adrian, please, talk to me. What is going on?" He turned to her, searching her gaze. After a moment, his gaze moved to her hand._

_"Do you still have the ring?"_

_"What ring?"_

_"My ring. The... the one Christophe gave me when I joined the White Rose. Do you still have it?"_

_"Of course." She quickly dug into the pocket of his jacket that was around her shoulders, pulling out the simple silver band. "But I do not understand. What is so urgent that you need it for?" He took it from her, and then grabbed her left hand, sliding it onto her ring finger._

_"This." Her eyes widened and she looked up at him. "Marry me, Zara." He could see the indecision in her eyes- not because of love, but because of their faiths, and because of their races- the very reason his people had turned on hers in the first place. "I know that... that we may never actually be able to be together because of who we are and where we come from, and I know that we may not survive this, but... but I want to know that... that even if we do survive this, that I'll have a reason to keep searching for you, even if I never find you again, I want to know that my quest won't be in vain."_

_"Adrian-"_

_"Please, Zara. I love you, I think I have always loved you, even before I met you. And I love this baby we created and I want the chance- or even the possibility of the chance- to give you the life you deserve, the safety you deserve." He took her face in his hands. "Please, Zara, marry me. I promise, if we somehow manage to survive this, then we'll go away, we'll leave... we'll... we'll go to America or Canada or England and start over... we'll make a life for ourselves and... and raise this baby and have another and another... as many as you desire... and we'll teach them Hebrew and Polish and observe Passover and Easter and... Zara, please, answer me." She opened her mouth, unsure, even as he removed the ring from her finger and placed it within the ashes beside the locket before covering both_

_. It wasn't that she didn't want those things, it was just that the light in his eyes was scaring her."I-" He took a deep breath, glancing towards the door. And then, he pulled her close, kissing her deeply. If his words wouldn't convince her-_

_"Marry me, Zara. Please. Be my wife; you are already the mother of my child, please." He could see the question in her eyes, and knew he had to answer it, even if he never spoke again. "And so, if we don't survive this, I... then I will gladly go to my death knowing that you once called me your husband." He kissed her again._

_A moment passed, before she threw her arms around his neck, her lips catching his. She met his gaze, giving him a small smile. "I love you, my husband."_

_He gave her a soft smile before their lips met once again, just as the door of the cabin burst open and the familiar flash of greet Gestapo uniforms entered. _


	74. Chapter 74

**Rifiuto: Non Miriena**

**Thanks to EowynGoldberry for reviewing 72 and Reader for reviewing 69, 70, 71, 72 and 73.**

_"The past is gone and what is ahead is still to be felt."_

_- Nonna Bannister (1925 - 2004), Russian Holocaust Survivor_

_Berlin, Germany_

_die Weiße Rose_

_3:00 P.M._

Ziva looked up as Tim came back into the cafe. She'd since ordered a raspberry tart, and was working on the custard. "Everything okay?"He nodded, returning to his seat across from her. "So what did Gibbs want?"

"He... he told me that... that if it ends up where you're too far along in the pregnancy by the end of the case and can't return to the U.S., then... then we should stay here until after the baby's born."

She raised an eyebrow, dark eyes wide. "How did he know-?" Tim shrugged. "Did you tell him?" A shake of the head. "Did one of the other agents at the Berlin office tell him?"

"No. It's just Gibbs. He... he_ knows everything._ It's like... like he's part... _prophet_ or something." Ziva nodded, and then pulled something out of her purse.

"I found this last night in the lobby when we returned to our room. It is on this tour that is going to be given."

"What's it about?" Tim asked, taking the pamphlet she'd grabbed the night before. He opened it scanning the writing on the glossy pages. Ziva had been giving him German language lessons several times over the day, so he was now able to read some German as well as- shakily- speak it, though his accent was rusty.

"Well, they give this tour that takes you from Berlin, through the German countryside; it traces the route the Jews took to the death camps, and ends at Auschwitz." He nodded, meeting her gaze.

"Okay. You want to do it?" She swallowed the bite she'd taken.

"Actually, I was thinking that maybe we could do the same thing, just... on our own. That way we can search for clues for our case without holding up the entire group." He narrowed his eyes. "What?"

"Are you sure we should? With the baby and all?" She glared at him.

"Tim, I am pregnant, not chained to a bed. Besides, I want to get this done while I have the energy, because-"

"Once you start the third trimester your energy will go out the window, I know." He sighed. "Okay, if you want to do this, Zia, we'll do this." She leaned over the table, smiling.

"_Toda_! Can we start today?" He rolled his eyes, but met her in the middle.

"Of course, just let me pay first." He replied, kissing her softly.

Once they'd paid and returned to the hotel, they'd packed a couple bags and slipped down to the lobby, explaining that they would be touring the German countryside for a few days but that they'd be back before the following Monday. They then informed Gibbs of Ziva's plan, and after some gentle chiding from the older man that Tim had better keep Ziva and the baby safe, and his promising that he would, they set off, using the rental car NCIS's Berlin office provided them with.

They drove into the German countryside, following the path the Jews had taken to the camps, with Ziva directing. Eventually, after hours of driving in the German countryside, they pulled over in front of an old, abandoned cabin that sat directly back against the woods. It was dilapidated, old and unused, but still stood strong. Ziva looked up, her sunglasses holding her hair back. "So what now, Zia?" She thought a moment, before getting out of the car and going around to the driver's side. She pulled the car door open, reaching for his arm.

"Come on." He watched her, before allowing the petite Mossad officer to tug him from the car.

"Excuse me?"

"Let's go inside." He glanced at the cabin before turning back to her. She was eager, excited, and after a moment, he sighed, grabbing the camera and a notebook. Ziva took the notebook,holding it to her chest as they made their way to the cabin. Just as Tim pushed the door open, Ziva stopped him, nodding to a small plaque beside the door in German.

"What does it say?" She read it silently before turning to him.

"It... it was abandoned in the late thirties by a couple that fled to Switzerland, and was later used as a place of refuge by Jewish refugees fleeing Hitler's Germany for Switzerland." She met his gaze, and he gently pushed the door open. It was fairly good-sized for a small cabin; the table was overturned and there were broken dishes scattering the floor, in the bedroom, the pillows were strewn about along with blankets, and there were ashes scattered in the living room area. As Tim snapped photographs, Ziva wandered over to the fireplace.

Her Mossad training kicked in, and she knelt down, studying the ashes. A glimmer of something caught her eye; there was... something buried in the ashes. Slowly, she brushed the ashes away; it looked like a link of some kind- a chain or... or a watch link, or...

_"Give me your locket, Zara." _

Her breath caught as she grabbed the chain and gently lifted it up.

_"I love you, my husband."_

It was a necklace chain- and beside it... her fingers continued to brush the ash away, revealing a circular pendant and-

"Well, it doesn't look like anyone knows it's here." Tim said, returning to her. "Ziva, what are you doing? It's not healthy for you to be around ashes!" He knelt down, placing his hands on her waist and gently trying to help her to her feet.

"No, Tim!" She turned in his arms, the necklace swaying.

"What is that?" She met his gaze, and then turned back to the ashes. As she brushed them away, she felt her breath catch, and gently, she lifted it out. Turning back to Tim, she held it out to him, dropping it in his palm. "Is that..._ Adrian's ring_? So, if this is Adrian's ring, then that _has_ to be-"

Ziva nodded as she fiddled with the pendant. She slid her nail against the small latch on the side; it opened, and she gasped, turning to him and holding it out. He took it, studying the old sepia photographs inside as Ziva's voice latched onto his train of thought. "Zara's locket."


	75. Chapter 75

**Rifiuto: Non Miriena**

**A/N: Hey guys, here's the chapter on Chava and Conrad... Zara and Adrian's story will pick up in the next chapter.**

**~ Why did you write this chapter again?**

**Because I promised them I'd write it. **

**~ Why? They didn't promise to give you anything. **

**They give us reviews, remember? And you keep up the attitude, Z, and I'm gonna take that ring and my marriage proposal back. **

**~ You'd take it away from me? What are you, my mother? **

**Oh, you think I wouldn't?**

**~ *gets up and goes to him* Fine. Post your chapters. I don't control that part of the story anyway. **

**Oh really? You try to control my love scenes.**

**~ *as she goes into the kitchen* That's cause you can't write romance!**

***rolls eyes* I'm starting to think that ring was a bad idea. Bite me, Z! *jumps* Ow! *turns to find her kneeling behind* What the hell was that? **

**~ You said to bite you, so I did. *slides arms around neck from behind, look at him* I do love you, Ev. So much that I'm willing to marry you. **

***chuckles* I _guess_ I can be willing to marry you too. *kisses her* **

**~ _Ow!_ You _bit_ me! **

**Payback bites, doesn't it?**

***gently smacks his cheek* Cute. **

_"In some ways suffering ceases to be suffering at the moment it finds a meaning, such as the meaning of a sacrifice."_

_- Viktor E. Frankel (1905 - 1997), Austrian Holocaust Survivor and Founder of Logotherapy_

Mauthausen-Gusen Concentration Camp

Upper Austria

January 8th, 1945

2:00 P.M.

_She dreamt of her sister. Despite the below freezing temperatures, and the thin blanket she had brought with her from Auschwitz, the Nazis had taken everything from her- her clothing, her few possessions she'd saved from the ghetto, even her hair. And they'd taken Conrad. He'd done all he could to protect her on the ride to the camps, to safeguard her from the jostling of the cars; holding her on his hip or back when she got too tired to stand. He never complained, never questioned, just did, making quiet jokes and telling stories to keep the little girl calm. And when she'd started to cry for her sisters and brother, for her parents, he'd shushed her, promising that they'd see them all again._

_But now she knew they were lies. She would never see her family again except when they greeted her in Heaven._

_Though, when they arrived in Auschwitz and separated them, she had seen someone she never thought she'd see again- Frau Fromm._

_She'd called out to the older woman, and then rushed to her, throwing her arms around the woman. Tears and hugs had been exchanged, and she'd asked after Herr Fromm, only to discover that he'd been shot not long after they'd arrived and been separated. He'd refused to enter the gas chamber- having printed pamphlets and talked to men who had worked to build the chambers, he knew what they were and what the shower spigots spewed- and so they'd taken him out and shot him in the forehead to keep him from telling other prisoners. That he had, until the end, stood up for his beliefs gave her the courage to inform Anneliese of her own daughter's sacrifice._

_And while Anneliese hadn't been surprised at Cora's protecting of her brother, she'd been horrified to learn of her daughter's bloody death at the hands of a man who had once been a childhood friend of hers. She'd asked after Adrian and Zara, and Chava told her of the couple who had given the teens shelter for a few days, of roundup at the village, how she and Conrad had played distraction long enough for Adrian and Zara to escape into the countryside. Anneliese had been relieved to hear that at least one of her children had managed to escape the camps, and she'd kept a close eye on Chava- until roll call two weeks later._

_She'd stood within the line, listening to the Germans call out various numbers- those for transit and various other things- and had waited silently for her number to be called, when she heard Anneliese's number. The older woman stepped forward, glancing back at Chava. She'd mouthed three simple words, and then turned back to face the officer. Without a word, he'd drawn his gun and shot her in the forehead. The sound had echoed in Chava's head for days later, and it brought back horrid memories of the village roundup-_

_Her number had soon been called, and she'd been placed on a train, bound for another camp. As she'd moved to get into the train, someone had caught her eye and she'd rushed towards them. It was Conrad, with other prisoners, awaiting orders. She'd told him of Anneliese and Conrad and had burst into tears. He'd kissed her forehead, and told her that she would be okay, that she would survive, and she just needed to have faith before the officers ripped them apart._

_She'd been shoved onto the train, screaming for Conrad as it took off, not realizing that he watched it roll away before he and the other prisoners were ordered to start walking. It was only later that she discovered he'd been chosen for a 'death march' to another camp- a forced march from one place to another, intending to kill those marching along the way. But to this day, she had no idea whether he survived or not. _

_The likely answer was that he'd perished, as was normal on these marches._

_She burrowed further under her blanket, trying to keep warm. Her small body burned with fever, even though she shook from chills. She had been sent to the hospital camp a few days earlier, and the man in the white coat had given her an injection, telling her that she would be fine. Now, she knew that beyond his smiling words, was the truth. _

_She shifted onto her back, staring at the ceiling above her "bed"- really the floor, for she'd been too weak to climb into the bunk. As her eyes began to close, she felt Abba's strong arms wrap around around her and smelled Ima's jasmine perfume, unaware of the Typhus as it continued to ravage her small body, her last thought being a prayer that Zara had survived. _


	76. Chapter 76

**Rifiuto: Non Miriena**

**A/N: Remember how we told you guys to remember the name of the hotel in D.C.,- the one that the op started at? Well,_ this_ is why.**

**~ *leans over his shoulder to read last chapter* You got that chapter wrong. Mauthausen-Gusen was liberated in May, 1945.**

***rolls eyes*_ Historical_ liberation, Z, love. This story doesn't have to be accurate.**

**~ *meets his gaze* I like my stories to be as accurate as possible, Ev. **

***raises an eyebrow* Well, as far as this one goes, how about you forget accurate details like dates and let the story and the events and context _surrounding_ it speak for itself?**

**~ *pouts***

**Oh come here. *pulls her onto lap* Does it really matter at this point _how accurate_ as long as stories like these are told? Don't you think _knowing_ the stories is more important than the accuracy? *she sighs in annoyance***

**~ I guess not. **

_"Those who deny Auschwitz would be ready to remake it."_

_- Primo Levi (1919 - 1987)_

_Auschwitz-Birkenau State Museum_

_Oświęcim, Poland_

_Three Days Later_

They stood at the entrance of the living museum, staring up at the sign- the very same sign millions had seen when they first arrived.

_Arbeit macht frei._

"Work makes free. Or, technically it's 'Work makes (you) free', but still. It's the most recognized sign in the world and the absolute irony of ironies." Ziva nodded, silent. She remembered Nettie telling her of seeing the sign, and wondering exactly how working would free them from being Jewish.

"My Aunt Nettie would tell me stories about Auschwitz." Ziva whispered, never taking her eyes off the sign. "It was the stories of the gas chambers and the crematoriums that scared me most." Tim glanced at her, reaching over and taking her hand. They made their way towards the small ticket counter, and explained the situation. Eventually, a young tour guide was called over, who agreed to take the couple on a private tour. Before it started, however, the woman pulled three face masks out of a package and handed one to each of them.

"There is still human ash hanging in the air. It's not wise to breathe it in, especially with your wife in the condition she's in, Mr. Zane." Tim nodded, silent, glancing at Ziva. "This is just a precaution. Everyone must wear a mask, to be safe." As they began the tour, Ziva found herself being transported back to her Aunt Nettie's stories- the smell of burning flesh getting stronger as they reached the crematoriums.

Ziva turned from them; she knew that at least one of her great-uncles had perished within the ovens, his flesh and bone soon turning to ash. Tim noticed, and once they were away from the ovens, asked her if she was okay. She nodded, tears in her eyes. "If you don't mind my asking, Mr. Zane, but... what are you looking for?"

Tim sighed, glancing at Ziva, who squeezed his hand. "My wife and I- we search for surviving artifacts of the Holocaust, check their authenticity and deliver them to the Holocaust Museum in Washington, D.C., to be added to the permanent exhibit." Ziva squeezed his hand tighter, a sign that she was surprised he could lie so easily.

"So what are you looking for now?" He glanced at Ziva before pulling the list out of his pocket.

"We've been looking for some artifacts that belonged to the Fromms and Hirsches. Adrian Fromm's ring and bicycle and Zara Hirsch's locket and diary. We were able to find the ring and locket, but the other two artifacts are proving more difficult to track down." The tour guide nodded as they made their way towards the bunkhouses.

"Well, you are welcome to look around the bunks- anything that can go to the museum to help spread remembrance is fine to remove from the camp. The D.C., museum has been a good friend of ours to help preserver the Holocaust's legacy and history." Tim nodded, letting go of Ziva's hand. As he talked with the girl, she wandered towards the bunks, stacked three high.

Tears came to her eyes as she thought of her Aunt Nettie sleeping on one of these bunks as a child. She pulled on a pair of gloves and gently ran her hands over the bunks, feeling for cracks and things hidden within. She knew that Nettie had hidden a note to her parents within the crack of a bunk, in case she didn't survive. After running her fingers over the wood, she moved to the blankets and found nothing. She was about to return to Tim and the young guide before she doubled back, remembering the pillows.

She ran her hands over each pillow case, finding nothing-

She stopped, running her fingers over it again. It was hard- and not like the normal hardness of a pillow having lost its fluff. She slowly removed the pillow case, setting it aside. It looked like an ordinary pillow- flattened and worn with use- but when she examined the edges, she found all sides with a normal seam, except for the bottom one. It was jagged, as though the thread had been ripped multiple times.

A moment passed before Ziva glanced over her shoulder; Tim and the guide were still talking, oblivious to her activities. She quickly pulled a small pocketknife from her pocket, and turned the pillow upside down, exposing the jagged sewing. Being careful, she gently ripped the seam apart, and pulled the pillow back-

_"You have to hide it, Zara. Hide it, and then, when we are free, the world will know of the horrors our people suffered at the hands of the Germans. They will read what you have witnessed and they will believe."_

Slowly, Ziva reached into the pillow, pulling out a small book.

A diary.

Being gently, she opened the book, scanning the pages. The ink was perfectly preserved, the pages as crisp and white and smooth as the day they were printed. After searching several entries, her eyes found the words she was looking for.

_Adrian. Fromms. _

She reached up, pulling her mask down as she turned to the others. "I found it. I found Zara's diary."


	77. Chapter 77

**Rifiuto: Non Miriena**

**Thanks to lissaemtb and sintija2001 for reviewing 76 and Reader for reviewing 74, 75 and 76.**

_"Auschwitz begins wherever someone looks at a slaughterhouse and thinks: they're only animals."_

_- Theodor W. Adorno (1903 - 1969), German Philosopher_

Auschwitz-Birkenau Concentration Camp

Oświęcim, Poland

Four Days Later

Midnight

_The train car jostled to a halt, and before anyone could react, the doors were opened, a plank was set up, and they were ushered out of the car and into the camp. "Adrian, what happens now?" He shook his head, holding her close as they joined the jostling crowd. People were rushed from the car, families separated, children and women ripped from their husbands' arms, shoved into the dirt and snow, as dogs- huge, nasty German Shepherds- growled and barked and lunged at them, even as the guards loosely held them back.  
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_"I don't know, Zara, but whatever happens," He looked around; he'd heard of the horrors of the concentration camps, of how Auschwitz was the worst,- but never, never did he ever expect to find himself there- before turning back to her. "Zara," She met his gaze; hearing the tears as he spoke, his voice so soft, it was a whispered dove, just for her. "My beautiful wife," She gave him a soft smile as he took her face in his hands. "Remember that I love you." He kissed her deeply, memorizing the taste of her kiss, the feel of her touch, the soft swell of her belly and the baby within her beneath his hand; he wrapped his arms around her, holding the girl tightly to him, and her arms tightened around his neck, before he felt a firm tug on his shoulders and waist as the guards struggled and finally managed to rip him away from her._

__"Men to the left, women to the right!"__

_He grabbed onto her hands, struggling to keep hold of her, kicking and fighting the guard, being careful not to hurt Zara, but the man shoved him to the ground, kicking him swiftly in the stomach before yanking him to his feet and shoving him in the opposite direction._"No exceptions! Not even for your Jewish bitch!" The guard shouted, shoving the younger man.__

_"Adrian!" Zara struggled to go after him, but guards blocked her way, holding her back. "Adrian!" Her scream sliced through the very darkness itself, breaking his heart and making him all the more determined to get back to her, no matter who stood in his way. "Adrian!" The two guards holding her shoved her back, she stumbled into the arms of a woman not much older than her sister, Miriam. The woman held her close, providing scant comfort to the sobbing young woman. "Adrian!"_

_"Zara!" As he got caught in the clash of men and boys being ushered away from the train, he turned back, straining for a glimpse of her, one last look at her face, of her dark eyes, to carry with him before whatever fate he met befell him._

_"Zara!" __His cry faded as she herself was ushered along with the other women and girls towards one of the buildings, the gates slamming shut and locking behind them, sealing their fates within the camp. Hundreds of them were crushed into a building and made to register. Once registered, they were each stopped, their arms pulled out and the skin exposed._

_A prisoner working the desk tugged her closer, and, using a penned needle, began tattooing a number onto her forearm. "Did you tell your husband goodbye? You will never see him again- his has already been gassed," She asked, her voice cold, used to seeing new waves of Jews come through the gates, just as she at one time had. "And the baby you are carrying? Have you told it goodbye? Because that baby residing in your belly will not survive."_

_"Do not listen to her, it will be okay." She glanced beside her, the woman who'd caught her when she'd been shoved away from Adrian stood behind her. She reached out, wrapping an arm around Zara's waist and holding her close, giving the young woman the strength she possessed._

_"You shut up." The woman snapped, as she wiped the blood away; once gone, Zara saw through her tears the numbers and letters that would become her new identity._

_Even as the tattoos began to dry, they were shoved along, into another part of the room. Women in green uniforms watched them silent, as prisoners who had already been there helped them undress. "Strip!Jetzt!" One of the guards ordered. As she began to remove Adrian's coat, she brought the sleeve to her nose; she wanted to remember, to bottle that wonderful smell of his and bathe herself in it, so that it would always be with her. The coat dropped to the floor and she moved to kick off her shoes, unable to bend over, until she felt someone removing them for her._

_"There you go. I know how hard it was, unable to do even the simplest things." It was the woman- the one who reminded her of Miriam._

_"Thank you." She nodded, and once Zara's shoes were off, stood and continued to undress. As she herself worked on removing her dress, the woman asked,_

_"How far?" Zara met her gaze._

_"Six months." The other woman nodded._

_"You had best keep your head down, do as you're told. Better to protect yourself and the baby." She stopped, biting her lip. "I am Emilie."_

_"Z... Zara."_

_"Keep moving!" Once nude, all were ushered into a room with stone slabs that sat close to about a hundred, Zara grabbed onto Emilie's arm; the older woman pulled her close, keeping the young mother-to-be by her side, even as they were forced to take seats. Zara covered her chest, feeling completely and absolutely exposed to everyone- the guards, the prisoners helping, the other women. She lowered her head, choking on a sob, but soon felt someone grab her by her hair and yank her head back._

_The sharp snap of scissors soon reached her ears, as prisoners similar to the ones who had helped them undress began cutting away at their hair. Tears began to fall from her eyes as her dark locks began to fall, the scissors cutting dangerously close to her scalp. She watched as the woman who worked tossed chunks of hair towards the floor, and she thought of Adrian, of how he would wind his fingers in that hair as he kissed her, as he made love to her..._

_Once the hair was cut, they were forced towards the showers to be cleaned and disinfected, before being given blue and white uniforms to wear, along with a single blanket and a pillow. Finally, they were sent to their bunks. Zara glanced back at the feel of someone taking her hand. _

_Emilie. _

_The older woman gave her small smile, pulling her close. _


	78. Chapter 78

**Rifiuto: Non Miriena**

**A/N: Hey guys, it's Ev. Z came home from dance with a migraine. She took a couple Excedrin and is currently curled up on the sofa with a blanket around her, snoring like Ziva. So I've written her chapter and I'll post it before I post mine. She... _shouldn't_... kill me over this, but we'll see...**

_"It was all in His hands now - as it had always been."_

_- Louis Zamperini (1917 - 2014)_

_Oświęcim, Poland_

_Ein heller Tag Cafe _

_An Hour Later_

Ziva sat back in her chair, one hand tracing patterns over her belly, the other wrapped around the warmth of her mug. She watched Tim as he stood a few feet away, informing Gibbs of what they'd found. they'd left the Auschwitz State Museum and headed into the town that Auschwitz had gained its name from, and found a small cafe. After ordering lunch, they'd grabbed a table outside on the sidewalk and proceeded to run through their evidence so far.

So far, they were getting closer- having found the locket, ring and diary helped-, but still no mice.

A sigh escaped her lips, and she moved her gaze to her belly. "Daddy will be right back, Bug. He just needed to call _Saba_ Gibbs and let him know what was going on."

"_Saba_?" She looked up to find Tim slipping into his seat, having finished his phone call. He set his phone on the table, raising an eyebrow. Ziva sighed, resting her other hand atop her belly.

"It is... the informal word for grandfather in Hebrew." She sent her eyes heavenward briefly, thinking. "It is like your American grandpa._ Saba_ is the Hebrew word meaning grandpa." Tim nodded, picking up his cup.

"And you used it for... Gibbs?" He asked, taking a sip of his drink. She nodded. "Ziva, you do realize that Gibbs isn't exactly the warm and fuzzy type, don't you?"

"I know. But he seemed concerned about both Bug and I when you talked to him earlier. Therefore, he must like kids, ken?" He sighed, folding his hands on the table. Something was trying desperately to edge itself off the tip of his tongue, but the look in his eyes clearly screamed that he wasn't supposed to say anything. "Tim? What are you hiding?"

He met her gaze, before sighing deeply and rubbing a hand over his face. He lowered his hand and leaned close; she met him in the middle, intrigued by his sudden desire to tell her. "Fine, I'll tell you, but you have to keep quiet about it. I shouldn't even be telling you this- I shouldn't even know this; none of us on the team should. So, before I say anything, I want you to promise me that you'll keep your mouth shut about it when we return to the States, Ziva, are we clear?"

She nodded, eyes lighting with excitement. Tim took a deep breath, glancing over his shoulder, as if expecting Gibbs to be standing behind him. When he turned back to her, his voice was soft, conspiratorial. "Gibbs had a daughter."

_"What?"_ Her eyes widened, and she clapped a hand over her mouth. "Sorry. What do you _mean_ he had a_ daughter_?" She demanded, lowering her hand and leaning closer. "Why did you not say anything? Or why did Gibbs not?"

"I'm not supposed to know and neither are you." He ground out softly. "And Gibbs doesn't talk about her."

"Why not?" He glanced around, before standing. She furrowed a brow, confused as to why he was acting so... out of character. Well, _other_ than the character already assigned him for this op. Either way, as Evan or himself, this wasn't him. "Tim? Tim, what are you doing?" He grabbed the bag holding their research, the diary and jewelry, and then held out a hand.

"Come on. I'll explain in the car." She sighed, allowing him to help her up.

Once they were in the car and heading back to Germany, he spoke, his voice jarring Ziva from her thoughts. "She died." The rain that was pounding on the car windows suddenly lost all interest for her, and she turned to him.

"Who?"

"Gibbs's daughter. Her name was Kelly. She was eight."

"Oh." He nodded; eventually, they entered Germany, making their way towards Berlin. It wasn't a that long a drive, if one timed it right- little traffic on the highways and good weather did wonders for making time back to their original starting point. "How?"

"Shannon, Gibbs's first wife, witnessed the murder of a Marine at Camp Pendleton, and she identified the man who did it. Pedro Hernandez- a Mexican drug dealer of the Renoysa cartel. She and Kelly were put under protection at the time, and were on their way to court so Shannon could testify when the agent driving the van they were in was assassinated by Hernandez- sniper bullet. Car spun out, slammed into a pole, killed both instantly. Gibbs was overseas at the time, deployed."

"How do you know this?" He sighed.

"It was one of my first cases on Gibbs's team- involved a little girl'd been kidnapped from her mother on the marine base they were living on. It was suspected that the kidnapper had been taking children from the same military base for years- all the files were in the archives in the garage. They started in ninety-one, and I pulled the box. Came across Gibbs's case file when I was searching. I read it; I shouldn't have, but I couldn't help it. There was something about it-"

She nodded, silent, before asking,

"Did they-"

He nodded, silently glad to be off his brief history of snooping. "Hernandez was assassinated eight months after their deaths." The unspoken suspicion that Gibbs had something to do with it was loud and clear. He glanced at her, she cradled her belly one hand gently rubbing circles over the soft mound, her mind digesting the information he'd given her. As they pulled up to a stoplight, he reached over, taking her hand in his and lacing their fingers. "Hey, look at me." She met his gaze. "Don't worry. Nothing's going to happen to us. All right? There aren't any Mexican drug cartels here. We're in Germany. There are German drug cartels." She was able to crack a smile at his joke, and leaned over to kiss him softly before the light changed. As they started moving through the intersection, Tim looked up, catching something out of the corner of his eye.

"Tim?" She watched him, before turning her head._ "Tim!"_ The other car barreled down on them, and with quick thinking, he managed to swerve the car so that the majority of the impact was on his side, not Ziva's. They were jolted, the car moving several feet as the other car slammed into them. Other cars on the street that had witnessed the accident, pulled over and got out, rushing towards them, even as the car that had hit them sped away. Ziva, dazed but seemingly okay, turned to the driver's seat.

The impact from the car had blown out the window, and Tim was leaning partially out of the broken window, bloody and bruised. She could hear sirens in the distance, and soon, felt herself being helped from the car, even as she refused to be separated from him. Her fingers were still locked around his, and as they pulled her away, she was forced to let go of his hand. The sight of his beautiful, long slender fingers falling limply to the side sent her screams higher. _"No, let me go! Tim, talk to me! Tim! Tim!" _


	79. Chapter 79

**Rifiuto: Non Miriena**

**A/N: Z... _you_ wrote this? **

**~ *nods* **

**Z, this is... *shocked*... graphic.**

**~ *wraps arms around self and shruggs* It's what I felt when I started to miscarry... you were at... at work... you weren't there... **

**Hey, as soon as I got your text, I came home.**

**~ *Shakes head* But you weren't there when it started... I... I started to bleed and... it wouldn't stop... I felt our baby start to die and... *breaks down***

**God Z, oh sweetheart... *pulls her into embrace***

_"I learned that they were all taken to the research block to be used as guinea pigs, and then two lives would be thrown into the crematorium. I decided that never again would there be a pregnant woman in Auschwitz."_

_- Dr. Gisella Perl (1907 - 1988), The Angel of Auschwitz_

Auschwitz-Birkenau Concentration Camp

Hospital Ward

Oświęcim, Poland

8 June, 1945

3:00 P.M.

_Instead of being sent to the gas chambers, she caught the eye of Dr. Josef Mengele._

_Nearly three weeks had passed since she and Adrian had been separated at the gates of Auschwitz, and she had no idea if he were alive or dead. Now into her third trimester, Zara had been regulated to work in the kitchens- until now. Now, she was sitting on a bed in the hospital ward- she'd seen others there; other women not as far along as she, as well as grown men and young girls, and twins... lots and lots of twins._

_But it was the nurses that frightened her, with the exception of Dr. Gisella Perl, the gynecologist. She had taken a special liking to Zara, seeing the bright girl beneath the ID number. Over the last few days, she'd talked with the girl, asking her various questions about her care, and even bringing up the father of her baby- she'd been surprised to learn the baby's father was a German, though not as surprised to learn he'd sacrificed his life and the lives of his family to protect her and her sister._

_She looked up, as the older woman took a seat on the bed beside her. "Zara, you know what Dr. Mengele will do to you and your baby, right?" The girl nodded, and Dr. Perl took a deep breath. The next words seemed to choke the older woman's windpipe. "You will not survive if Dr. Mengele sends you to the research block, and if you do not die from the experiments he performs, you will die in the crematorium. I cannot allow that." _

_Realization dawned in the girl's eyes, and she shook her head, arms protectively covering her belly. "No... no, Dr. Perl, please... this baby... it is all I have left of my husband... please, no..." But Dr. Perl took her face in her hands. _

_"I know. But if you want a chance to survive, then one of you has to be sacrificed." The girl shook her head, bursting into tears._

_"Then... then take me... but... but do not take my baby, please, Dr. Perl..." She tightened her hold on the girl's face._

_"Zara. Listen. To. Me. Even if you die, your baby will not survive. Dr. Mengele will kill it before it takes its first breath. Do you understand me? It will not survive. You have a better chance of survival than your child. I am sorry, Zara, but there is no other choice." The girl closed her eyes, turning her gaze from the woman. She rubbed her hands over her belly, feeling the baby kick against her palm. After a moment, she nodded, not opening her eyes._

_The older woman pressed a kiss to her forehead, and had her lie back on the bed; she then rushed to the door, blocking it with a chair; Mengele and the other doctors and nurses were at the research block; they had the place to themselves. Once done, she went to the girl, Zara refused to look at her, her hands moving in slow circles over her belly; she could tell the girl was trying the memorize these last moments- these final moments with her child._

_She took a deep breath, and perched on the edge of the bed, gently pushing Zara's legs up and parting them. Then, she quickly pulled on a pair of gloves, and checked the girl. With her limited instruments, she broke the sac; a gasp escaped the girl's throat as her water broke, and Dr. Perl then began to manually dilate her in order to induce labor._

_Two hours later, Zara found herself in the throes of full-blown labor, contractions grabbing at her abdomen and squeezing. She didn't recognize the screams escaping her throat and blanketing the walls of the of the hospital camp, or the body she was currently trapped in, she only recognized the never-ending pain that held her prisoner. She had never felt such pain as the pain from labor. It yanked at every bone in her body, tore at every cell as though the baby were ripping her apart from the inside out as it made its way towards her birth canal. Giving herself to Adrian hadn't been as painful as this was._

_Another scream escaped her throat, and she shifted onto her side, wrapping her arms around her belly, one final attempt to protect her last tie to the man she loved- to Adrian, for surely he was dead by now. Dr. Perl reached out to gently wipe at her face, but she pushed her away. As the contractions got stronger and harder, she returned to lying on her back, her fingers tangled in the sheets; she pushed herself to a sitting position, struggling to breathe._

_They got shorter, closer together, and soon, she felt something begin to part her opening. Dr. Perl grabbed her hand, allowing her to dig her nails in; she leaned back against the older woman, another scream wrenching itself from her throat as the pain got worse and the thing- the baby's head- continued to push its way out of her. "Breathe, Zara. You need to breathe. I know it's difficult right now, but you need to breathe." She did as instructed, choking on a sob._

_Her hips bucked, and she grit her teeth as the baby continued to be born. She'd never how something so small could cause so much pain-_

_"I want Adrian... I... want my... husband..."_

_"Shh. I know, Zara. I know you do. But he isn't here." Dr. Perl gently brushed her fingers over Zara's cheek._

_"I... I cannot... do this..."_

_"You have no choice, Zara. Now push." She did as told, and in those moments, she prayed for death._

_Was this her punishment? Was this God's way of punishing her for turning her back on him? For forsaking her religion in order to give in and allow herself to be loved- and ruined- by a Gentile?_

_"Push, Zara. Harder. Harder." She bore down, digging her nails into Dr. Perl's hand. "Harder, Zara! You need to push harder!"_

_"I can't! Don't... make... me..." The older woman grabbed her chin, forcing them to meet gazes. _

_"Listen to me, Zara. I have unknowingly sent hundreds of women to their deaths and I have also saved hundreds. And you are going to be one of them. You cannot give up. The baby won't allow it, your body will not allow it. Your husband would not allow you too, were he here. Now push." She did as told. "Harder, Zara. As hard as you can. Harder!" _

_One final scream wrenched itself from her throat and she felt something finally exit her body as she collapsed in Dr. Perl's arms. The older woman, brushed her knuckles against the girl's cheek. "Good girl. Good, strong, girl." After a moment, she sat up, only to be met with a sight that would haunt her for the rest of her life. _

_The sheets beneath her were soaked in blood, her thighs and legs stained in the color, as stark contrast against the white material. But what she couldn't take her eyes off of was the thing lying between her legs. She hadn't seen many in her short life, but even she knew what it was, where it had come from and how it had come to be resting between her legs. _

_But before she could speak, Dr. Perl swept the thing up and quickly checked it, shaking her head. She wrapped it in a cloth, and Zara reached for it. "Please." A moment passed, before the woman laid the still bundle in the young mother's arms. Tears filled Zara's eyes at the baby in her arms. _

_Her baby. _

_Her last tie to Adrian. _

_A tiny human, frozen and silent forever in time. _

_Tears slid down her cheeks and she choked on a sob, brushing a soft kiss to the baby's head. She vaguely heard Dr. Perl tell her it was a girl. Swallowing, she whispered, _

_"I love you, my little Ziva. My little radiance." _


	80. Chapter 80

**Rifiuto: Non Miriena**

**A/N: Are you okay? **

**~ I'm fine, Ev. **

**Z, we haven't talk about this- **

**~ And we're not going to. It was a temporary setback. I'm fine, I _swear_. Now, let's just focus on the engagement. Enjoy our time before we set a date and... *shudders* tell your parents. **

**Z, breaking down and not talking about it is not-**

**~ _I'm fine, Evan! Drop it!_ *checks time* I have a conference call for class. **

**You want my laptop or-**

**~ No, mine is fine. *slips into bedroom, shut the door* **

**- Hey, where's Z going? **

**Conference call for a class. Than****ks for coming, Licia. *hugs her***

**- No problem, little brother... *glances towards bedroom* you know she's just covering up, right? She's kind of like Ziva on_ NCIS_- Z's not one for the emotions. They get in the way. That's the one thing I think giving up her Musical Theater degree robbed her of. She's not the same since she gave it up and switched majors. I mean... she _loves_ performing. And I get that this degree will bring stability, but... but it's not her. It's like switching majors has taken away her true personality. She isn't exactly the same girl you met six years ago, Ev.**

**People change, Licia. **

**- *sighs* Yeah, but this... isn't necessarily for the better. She's not Suzanne. **

***chuckles* She_ hates_ that name. And you wonder _why_ she goes by Z... *thinks about it* ... it's just like... ever since the miscarriage, she's... she's not the girl I fell in love with. **

**- You aren't gonna break it off, are you? Because switched majors or not, she is the_ best_ thing to happen to you, Evan Nathaniel, and if you let her go, I _swear_ I will personally _kill_ you. **

**I'm starting to regret asking you to stop by, Licia-**

**- And I'm sorry, but we're_ not_ going back to high school when you dated every _bimbo_ cheerleader-**

**It wasn't every cheerleader, it was two- **

**- My point is, that she reeled you in, and you needed that. *looks up as door opens* Hey Zanie. I thought you were on your-**

**~ Canceled. I'm gonna go out for a bit.**

**On a run? **

**~ No. Meeting Emma for coffee. **

**Z, it's midnight. **

**~ *stops* ... I meant drinks. **

***steps in front of her* Okay, what's going on? You're acting strange. **

**~ I'm fine. I just need a change of scenery for an hour or two. **

***grabs her wrist* Z, talk to me, please. **

**~ *tugs* Let me go, Evan. **

**Not until we talk. Is this about the miscarriage? I thought we worked through it last night-**

**~ *thinks about it* Let go. *tugs***

**Z- **

**~ *yanks harder* _I said let me go!_ *slaps him, grabs car keys and flees***

**- Ev, are you o- *he nods* _Zanie!_ What the _hell_ has gotten into her?**

**I have no idea.**

**Thanks to ladyd10 for reviewing 71, sintija2001 for reviewing 79 and Reader for reviewing 77, 78 and 79.**

_"Some knowledge is too heavy...you cannot bear it...your Father will carry it until you are able"_

_- Corrie Ten Boom (1901 - 1983)_

_Berlin, Germany _

_Berlin Memorial Hospital_

_Two Hours Later_

Ziva looked up as footsteps neared her- Agent Wilkins and several others from the Berlin office- and skidded to a stop before her. "Officer David-" She stood, throwing her arms around the other man, who held her close.

"Someone hit us... Tim... he... he swerved the car so... so the impact would be... on his side, not mine..." She pulled away, quickly wiping the tears from her eyes. Her arms then went down to wrap around her belly.

"And the baby?" All the agents in the Berlin office knew of the relationship between one of their own and the Mossad officer- and they all willingly kept it from the Director of NCIS- for if she found out, Tim could lose his job, which, to everyone but the older agents, was absolutely ridiculous. And even though Agent Wilkins and the rest of the Berlin team had only known them a few months, they all liked them, and felt particularly protective of the pair.

"She is fine." Ziva whispered.

"You're having a girl?" Agent Mallart asked, a light coming to her eyes. Ziva nodded. "Oh, congratulations." She wrapped the young officer in a hug, pulling away after a moment. "Have you told your father?" The officer shook her head.

"No." Agent Mallart nodded, before nodding to the others that she was going to take the girl and head to the cafeteria. Once they'd taken seats at a table near the window, she asked,

"So what are you gonna do?" Ziva shrugged.

"I am already in trouble for not reporting in, for losing my focus on the mission, and were he to find out now how far along I am, and with whose child-"

"Your dad doesn't think much of Americans, does he?"

"No, he does not. But because they are an ally, he tolerates them." She sighed, reaching down to rest a hand on her belly. "I think I may... place it for adoption. Or if I do not, then I may..." She swallowed. "I may return to Israel and... raise it there."

"How?" Ziva sighed. She hadn't even told Tim this; hell, her father hadn't told her until a couple years ago. She met the woman's eyes.

"I could take the baby back to Israel and raise her to be an assassin."

"_What_?" She nodded. "But... how is that-"

"My father did it with both my older brother and I. My younger sister never lived for him to follow through." She swallowed. "My mother died when I was sixteen. By then, she'd left my father, and my sister and I had been shuffled back and forth for years... _Abba_ had been quietly training me behind _Ima_'s back... when she died..." She quickly wiped away a tear, remembering the day of the bombing. "After she died, my training began full-time. I did not get a chance to go to university like I had hoped. By eighteen, I was already killing grown men twice my size during missions- and then _Abba_ told me that he had not been the one to instigate my training. That my aunt was the one to." She took a deep breath. "_Ima_'s older sister- Shirah. She instigated my training and... directed what I learned as well as my early missions."

"So... she trained you to become an assassin?"

"Yes. That was part of the reason my parents split up. Because_ Ima_ did not approve of Shirah training me as a child. But now everything makes sense. Shirah was always around, always keeping careful watch over me, always telling me what I could do to cover my tracks, or how I could improve something. I never thought much of it, but now it all makes sense..." She chuckled softly. "You know, in Mossad, we say that... 'it is not the men that run the business of murder, but the _women_.'"

Agent Mallart took a sip of her coffee and set her cup down. "Well, women have always been more cunning in the art of murder; must be because no one would ever suspect a woman being capable of murder." Ziva nodded, smiling. "So... you will do that, once the baby is born?" She thought a moment, before nodding, gaze moving to her belly, her resolve set.

"Yes. I will do that, just as Shirah did to me. I will return to Israel... and train my daughter to be an assassin."

Now all she had to do was tell Tim.


	81. Chapter 81

**Rifiuto: Non Miriena**

**A/N: Hold still. I can't fix it if you don't stop flinching. And you can wait to post it until tomorrow morning. You can post it on Pearl Harbor Day.**

**~ I'm sorry, but it hurts. **

**That's because she scratched you, brother. Not deep, thank God.**

**~ *hisses* Ow. **

**Oh deal with it, you big baby. You are such a wimp when it comes to pain, you know that? How are you going to react when you two actually have kids and she uses you as a human squeeze ball? Evan? _Evan!_ Are you even listening to me?**

**~ I just... I don't understand. **

***sighs* You don't understand what? That she hit you or that she stormed out of the house? **

**~ This _isn't_ Z. She doesn't do stuff like this. **

**Well, maybe now she does. Miscarriages are like brain tumors, they can change a woman, trust me, I know. Remember the year I took off on that road trip? **

**~ Yeah, but that wouldn't be something Z would do. She wouldn't just up and leave like that.**

**Are you sure, Ev? She's been talking about going to Ireland to find her roots.**

**~ *sighs* I don't know. I honestly don't know. **

**So what're you gonna do?**

**~ I think I may just _scrap_ the whole story-**

**And start over?**

**~ If even that. I may just scrap and be done with it.**

**Well, whatever you want to do.**

**~ *Rolls eyes* It's just... *sighs* I'm worried about her, Licia. **

**I know, Evan. I'm worried about her too, she's going to be my sister-in-law someday after all. **

**~ How do you know about the engagement? We haven't told anyone in the family yet.**

**Please, like I _couldn't_ miss the shiny, winking_ rock_ you placed on her finger. **

**Thanks to sintija2001 and Reader for reviewing 80 and ladyd10 for reviewing 72 and 73.**

_"What is death all about? What is life all about?"_

_- Livia Bitton-Jackson (1931 -)_

Auschwitz-Birkenau Concentration Camp

Oświęcim, Poland

Hospital Ward

2:00 A.M.

_"I always thought... were I to ever have a daughter... I would name her Ziva. And I did."_

_"Ziva is a good name, a strong name." Dr. Perl replied; she'd sat by Zara's bedside, making sure she was stable and free from infection before deciding she could send her back to the barracks. The girl was young; she was healthy, and Dr. Perl had found no infection- if she sent her back before they were all awoken at six, then the girl would be able to get a couple hours of sleep and rest. As she helped the young woman dress, Zara spoke up._

_"Ima told me she was going to name me Ziva... but Abba put his foot down, and she chose Zara instead." The older woman chuckled before asking, _

_"And your husband's name is Adrian?" She nodded. "When__ did you and your husband marry?"_

_Zara was silent for a moment. "We did... we have no date."_

_"A common-law." Zara sighed._

_"It was hasty. Before the Gestapo came and..." Dr. Perl nodded._

_"So... a self-uniting marriage." The girl shrugged. "Zara, you have to understand, that he may not survive the camps."_

_"Adrian said the Germans were losing the war."_

_"Indeed, they are, but even so, there will come a day when the Gestapo gets desperate, and when that day comes, they will try to do away with as many of us as they can. But until that day, you must try to survive." The girl sighed, meeting her eyes. "You told me that you were keeping a diary- do you still have it?" Zara nodded. "How did you get it past the guards?" Dr. Perl listened, how she'd burned majority of her diary, and used the material of her blanket, to create the covers, and how she'd been sneaking scraps of paper and ink to write of the experiences of the Jews within the camps. When the girl finally quieted, Dr. Perl whispered, _

_"Now, I want you to go back to the barracks; I will inform Dr. Mengele that you have lost the baby, and you can return to trying to survive. Okay?" Zara nodded, and Dr. Perl pressed a kiss to her forehead before sending her on her way. When she returned to the barracks, Emilie met her at the door; she'd been waiting for her._

_"Are you okay?" Zara met her gaze, nodding. "And the baby?" The young woman took a deep breath._

_"I still have a belly, but there is no baby in there." Then, she slipped into the barracks, heading for the bunks. Emilie grabbed her arm._

_"Zara, I'm sorry." The other girl shrugged._

_"It is okay. It was best. The baby would never have survived. I have a better chance than the baby would." She pulled away from the other woman and headed into the bunker, making her way towards the one on the far end, Emilie following. She climbed onto the bottom bunk and pulled her blanket around her, feeling Emilie join her before she drifted off to sleep._

_They were awoken around six to banging from other prisoners. Quickly, they all filed out into the chill of the summer morning, lining up for role call. As their numbers were called, some were tapped out of line and sent to carts that would carry them to the gas chambers. As one of the prisoners given the job to go through the numbers, got to Zara and Emilie, he glanced at the numbers on the sheet, said something, tapped them both and sent them on to the left instead of the right._

_"Where are we going?" Zara latched onto Emilie's arm, curving into the woman's side as they and several other prisoners walked through the camp. Emilie shrugged, keeping silent, and it wasn't long until she realized where they were._

_"The crematoriums." Zara turned to her._

_"What?"_

_"We are at the crematoriums." Zara tightened her grip on her arm, and soon, they were pushed into the building. "I do not understand. We..." But Emilie stopped, as they were each given gloves and fireplace pokers. She turned to the younger woman. "They... they want us to work the... to work the crematoriums."_


	82. Chapter 82

**Rifiuto: Non Miriena**

**A/N: **** Sorry guys, I know we've gotten into the unrealistic area with the second story... or, with both actually. I'm gonna try to get them both up to speed and... normalcy...**

**~ We both know it was going to happen eventually. Not like it isn't normal here; the whole Wilkins family is nothing but nutjobs. **And what's _wrong_ with the story? I've read it, and it's fine-****

_**Licia!... **_**The whole marriage thing doesn't work in the past-set story. And the pregnancy doesn't work in the present-set. It's more season_ 10_ than season 3, there have been review complaints so I'm gonna try and fix it-**

**~ Why not? And... _why_? Can't they just _deal_ with it? **

**_Oh my_ _god, Licia_... _clearly_ you don't understand the intricate workings of fan fiction. **

**~ Then explain it to me. *Waits...* Not as intricate as you _think_, huh, little brother? *Reaches over, ruffles hair* And I don't write fan fiction, that's your thing. And what's wrong with the marriage thing? Jacob's grandparents did the same type of thing before they were caught and sent to Bergen-Belsen- it's called a self-uniting marriage. And as for the pregnancy in the present story, have her adopt it out. Or have McGee take it and raise it on his own when he returns to the States. Or have her return to Israel and tell her father it was an orphan, and that she wants to raise it to be an assassin or-**

_**Okay, Licia, we get it!**_

**~ Someone's in a mood.**

**Can you _blame_ me? **

**~ So change the story to season 10.**

**The _whole_ story? Licia... that would take days, and it wouldn't work. Do you know how pissed Z would be if I just started changing- ****wait a minute. *****quickly flips back several chapters* She started changing it... ****Z, she... she started changing the story line back around chapter 38 or so.**

**~ Okay. And that's significant_ because_?**

**Z always has a set outline for her stories- for_ everything_ she writes. From book reports to novels. Look at this. In her story outline, she had Ziva miscarry not long after they got to Berlin- and yet in the one she posted, Ziva doesn't miscarry and they... *flips to another chapter outline* And then from about 56 to 80, she completely changes the story lines of _both_.**

**~ I thought _you_ wrote 73 and 75.**

**I wrote 75, but she wrote everything else. And... she's a stickler for historical accuracy, but... this doesn't _make sense_.**

**~ Well, she got the camps right. They did do those things to the Jews, and the chapter in the hospital ward... that was accurate... Dr. Perl would induce labor in a woman if she was too far along in order to save the mother... **

** And I understand_ why_ they're upset- she's breaking the rules she sets for herself in regards to her writing. _Believe me, I agree with them_. And I admit, I do it to, but I'm trying to be careful... but i****t's like she's _suddenly_ decided that the way she writes doesn't matter anymore and expects those that read her writing to just take reading sloppy work. I'm not gonna scrap it, even though I'm highly_ tempted_...**

**- It's not sloppy writing. A few grammar mistakes, a couple accuracy issues, but it's not sloppy. It's not all one paragraph, and the characters are well balanced, if a little OOC at times... but there's nothing _sloppy_ about Zanie's writing. There's never been anything sloppy about her writing. She's... a very... literate girl.**

**Yeah, well, being able to tell Chaucer from Carroll will get you nowhere in the fan fiction world. Look at this *flips to chapter 82 outline* she's crossed out everything and written something new. And it doesn't even_ go_ with what she originally wrote for the other chapters. And s****he never told me the original story. She let me start working on it to help her out, but she never let me see her notes. She's... funny that way.**

**~ Um... okay... did she know where it was going?**

**Yeah, but she's crossed everything out and gone in an entirely new direction now *****apartment door opens***

**- _Shh! We have to be quiet!_ *giggles***

**Thank God. *gets up and goes to her, pulls her into hug* You've been gone_ two hours. Where were you_?**

**- I told you... Emma and I went out for drinks... but I'm not drunk, I only had a... five... drinks... *giggles***

**_Please_ tell me you didn't drive home.**

**- Emma did... it wasn't far... when did your twin get here?**

**Z, you're blitzed off your ass.**

**~ *gets up, grabs her car keys* I'm gonna take Emma home. I'll be back as soon as I can.**

**- I'm not on my ass... *laughs***

**Okay, you know what, you need to take a shower and sleep this off. We'll talk when you're sober. *scoops her up***

**- I don't want... not child... put me down...**

**Sorry guys. I'll deal with the unrealistic-ness and the screw ups once I deal with _this_ mistake... Until then, here's 82... I'll check it once she's in bed... come on, Z...**

_"I myself am just an ordinary woman. I simply had no choice."_

_- Miep Gies (1909 - 2010)_

_Berlin, Germany_

_Berlin Memorial Hospital_

_An Hour Later_

"You okay?" Tim nodded, holding the ice pack to the back of his head. He had stitches in his forehead from the impact of the car, and had suffered a mild concussion, nothing that a few painkillers and some rest wouldn't cure. Agent Wilkins pulled up a chair, taking a seat. "You look like you have something on your mind. What is it?"

The other agent sighed, slowly lowering the ice pack and shifting hands. A moment passed, before he whispered,

"I'm not ready."

"To leave the hospital? You can stay for a day if you want-"

"No, not that. To be a father."

"This is about... Officer David." Agent Wilkins whispered, and Tim nodded, taking a deep breath.

"Yeah."

"What made you change your mind? The accident?"

"Kind of, but... it's more... imagining how the agency would react, and Gibbs and..."

"Well Gibbs seemed fine with it, from what you told me, anyway-"

"Yeah, until I get home and he decides to _kill me personally_, resurrect me, and allow Shepard_ and_ Director _Da_vid to each have a go." He winced. "Not to mention how my family would react- forget the disappointment, my father would kill me and cover up the crime." He shook his head. "I'm not doing it. I want kids some day, but not like this. I'd rather Ziva have lost the baby in the accident than-"

"Tim," Agent Wilkins rested his elbows on his knees, folding his hands. The fact that he'd just heard a fellow agent- especially one as caring and sensitive as Tim- express a desire that his partner in this op lose the baby she was carrying, startled him. "You're not thinking clearly. You need to rest and allow your injuries to heal before you say anything drastic to Officer David like that-"

"That's all I_ do_ is _think_!" The younger man exclaimed. "My mind doesn't _stop_ thinking! It _never_ stops working! I'm constantly running numbers and theories and algorithms and... and it is_ exhausting_. I mentally wear myself out every night because my mind never stops running. It's twenty-four-seven. Now throw a kid into that mix, and I'd lose my mind. I can't. I can't do it. And I_ know_ I made a mistake; we should have used protection, and I take full responsibility for that, but when it comes to raising the child, I"m not doing it. She can give the baby up for adoption or sell it or keep it, or whatever she wants to do with it-"

"Where is this coming from, Tim?" The younger agent locked eyes with him. He shrugged. He was sick of playing the good guy- the one who always did what everyone expected of him. He was tired of bending over backwards for everyone, and though he knew this came at a bad time, he didn't particularly care. Right now, all he wanted was to finish this case and go home.

But that could have been the concussion talking.

"You can't just abandon a child, Tim." He met the other agent's gaze.

"Why not? My father did it to my sister and I. Sure, our mother raised us, but she died in a car accident when I was ten- from then on, Sarah and I raised ourselves. And with Dad in the Navy, we were pretty much orphans in everything but name. We had Penny, our grandmother, but she was never around long enough to make a real impact. Sarah and I were our own family. And if... I could never do that to a kid." He swallowed, chuckling dryly. "And it's taken a car accident in Germany for me to realize that my past is a good indicator that I would never make a good father. I had no male role model." He shrugged. "The baby deserves better; Ziva should put it up for adoption after its born."

He met the other agent's gaze; both were unaware that Ziva stood outside the door, surprised as she listened to him. Tim sighed, shifting his hold on the ice.

"This whole op was a mistake. Ziva, me, the baby... this was all a mistake, and the sooner I can get back to my life at NCIS- assuming I still have a career after this- the better."


	83. Chapter 83

**Rifiuto: Non Miriena**

**A/N: *****Takes seat at table* My head hurts.**

**~ You got plastered last night. *Sets cup in front of her, kisses her head* Now, you mind explaining to me what's going on with you, ****love? I'm going to be your husband soon, and I'm worried. You aren't yourself. Talk to me, Z. _Please_.**

***cover ears* Stop yelling, you're giving me a headache.**

**~ That's because of the hangover.**

***takes deep breath* I'm not doing this for a career anymore, so... it would be better if I gave it up. If I'm going to be working a Federal job, then I need to give up these... _stupid childish pursuits_. So this is going to be my last _Nutcracker_. And I'm not going back for the showcase next spring. *takes deep breath* You can take over the writing if you want, Ev, you're really good at it. But I'm done. **

**~ *takes seat beside her, takes her hands* Z, sweetheart, just because you're doing something else for a career, doesn't mean you have to give what you love up. You wouldn't be_ you_ if you didn't dance and didn't write and...**

***swallows* It's better this way. I need to create stability for myself, and this isn't stable. I... I have to grow up. **

**~ I'm so _sick_ of that phrase! So just because you can't do what you truly love as a career, you have to find a 'sensible' career? That's ridiculous. Z, if you give up the fan fiction, you're letting not only your _readers_ but _yourself_ down, and I know _every single one_ of them would agree with me! If they didn't like your stories, they _wouldn't read them_.**

**Evan, don't-**

**~ I'm sorry, Z, but you are _not_ giving this up. Your readers_ love_ your stories,_ that's why_ they keep coming back to read more. And you're not giving up dance or performing. *takes her chin* You just need to get your confidence back. And you can _start_ by taking a shower and letting Licia take you out to lunch. We'll figure out the story when you get back okay? **

***nods and burrows into his chest* **

**~ It'll be okay, Z. You just need to build your confidence back up, that's all. **

**A/N: And I know Auschwitz was liberated on January 27, 1945, I just... I can't deal with the writing right now, guys. I'll post the chapters, but... but I have more important things to deal with than accuracy at this point... and if you could... maybe give Z a few words of encouragement as far as the writing, it would really help me out, since I've told her all I can think of... - Ev**

**Thanks to ladyd10 for reviewing 75, 76, 77 and 80, sintija2001 and Eowyn for reviewing 82, and Reader for reviewing 81 and 82. **

_"To sum it all up, I must say that I regret nothing."_

_- Adolf Eichmann (1906 -1962) _

Berga an der Elster Labour Camp

Late July, 1945

_The sound of pick axes cutting into the rock around them echoed through the tunnel they'd already dug; a moment passed before he reached up, wiping at the soot that covered his face._

_He took a deep breath, telling himself that all he had to do was hang on, that the Allies would arrive soon. He'd only been at Auschwitz-Birkenau for a week, before the Germans had selected him to return to Germany, to the Berga an der Elster Labour camp; a subcamp of Buchenwald. Before he left, he'd heard a rumor that Zara had been chosen by the Angel of Death, but he wasn't sure if she'd survived or not._

_Though Berga was primarily a POW camp- with mainly Americans as its residents- there were some Germans and a few Jews that had been sent to the camp, for one reason or another. Adrian had a sneaking suspicion that he'd been chosen because he'd turned his back on the Reich, choosing the help Jews instead of other Germans, and that death would have been too easy an out for him._

_Yes, if there as anything the Germans liked to do, was make their own suffer._

_Coughing soon started, and he turned, dropping his ax and hoisting the American up, wrapping an arm around his waist and one arm around his own shoulder. "Thank... you... lost... footing..." Adrian nodded to the man._

_"No problem." The other man looked up at him, surprised._

_"You are German?" Adrian nodded, helping the man take a seat before he quickly checked the man's ankle, for he'd slipped, falling into a hole- for the tunnels they dug were filled with them. A few of the others stopped, glancing at the younger man, before returning to their work. "What did you do to end up here?"_

_Adrian chuckled dryly. "My family and I hid two Jewish girls in the walls of our home..." His gaze turned sad, and he took a deep breath. "I married the older one- not in an official ceremony, but-"_

_"A self-uniting marriage?" The man asked. He nodded. "My brother did that." _

_"We consider ourselves married. Stupid, really, but I just... I didn't want to lose her, and-" But suddenly, they heard shouting, and the two quickly scrambled back to work, the silence broken only by the sound of pick on stone._

_When they were finally allowed out of the tunnels and given their meager rations, Adrian perched on the step of the barracks, becoming lost in his thoughts. He looked up when the American POW he'd helped in the tunnel joined him. They sat in silence for several minutes, before the American spoke._

_"I've got a girl back home. We weren't able to marry before I went out... we used to write all the time, but now..."_

_"What's her name?" The other man sighed._

_"Ann." Adrian nodded. "Yours?"_

_"Her name was Zara. She was a Polish Jew." When it was clear the younger man wasn't going to say any more, the American held out his hand. _

_"I don't think we've met." Adrian met his gaze, taking the man's hand after a moment. _

_"I'm Adrian." _

_"Nice to meet you, Adrian." He replied, smiling softly. "I'm Jack. Jackson Gibbs." _


	84. Chapter 84

**Rifiuto: Non Miriena**

**A/N: Hey sweetheart. *looks up as she climbs onto sofa* Come here. *holds out hand* Come here. *holds out arm as she curls up, laying head in lap* Feel better? ****  
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**~ *shrugs* **

**Have you read the reviews? **

**~ *shakes head* **

**They wrote some wonderful things. They're all in your corner, Z. All of them. _Every single_ _one_. **

**~ *shifts closer, takes hand, laces fingers***

**You're not gonna say anything tonight? Okay. *thinks* Sweetheart, _no one's_ against you here. You _have_ to know that. They all love you, just like I do. Maybe not as_ much_ as I do, or as _deeply_ as I do, and maybe not to the point where they would want to _marry_ you like I do, but still, they love you. And your _writing_ and the... **

**~ *plays with fingers***

***sets laptop aside, shifts to lay against arm of sofa, and pull her into embrace; slides arms around her waist* ... and the beautiful, vibrant... _amazing_ woman you are. *nuzzles nose against her hair* The beautiful woman I'm going to marry some day. They love you for_ you_, Z, for _exactly_ who _you_ are, not who you _think_ you should be.**

**~ *squeezes hand and tugs towards chest* **

***thinks* If you need to take a break from writing, I can continue the story if you tell me what direction to go. Hmm? *brushes fingers through her hair* That okay if I take over for a while? Let you rest that beautiful, frantic, workaholic mind of yours? *sits up and leans over to meet her gaze* That okay, Zani?**

**~ *shrugs***

***presses kiss to forehead* I love you. *sighs and brings hand up to kiss palm* I love you so,_ so_ much.**

**~ *snuggles closer, burrows further into chest, whispers* Too.**

**Thanks to sintija2001, EowynGoldberry, Guest and Reader for reviewing 83. **

_"There are no walls, no bolts, no locks that anyone can put on your mind."_

_- Otto Frank (1889 - 1980), Father of Anne Frank_

_Berlin, Germany_

_Scandic Berlin Potsdamer Platz Hotel_

_Two Days Later_

Neither had had the heart to tell the other of what they'd planned to do.

So, two days after being released from the hospital, Ziva found herself alone in their hotel room, as Tim had taken the locket and ring to be authenticated- though both had a niggling feeling they were the artifacts the Zanes had been looking for- and had yet to return. Ziva, meanwhile, had settled on the sofa, legs up, Zara's diary and a cup of coffee in her grasp. She trailed her fingers over her belly, her mind wandering occasionally to Tim's words. But soon, the baby would kick or she'd catch the tail end of a paragraph in Zara's diary, and forget about his words.

She turned another page in the book, silently amazed that a young woman in such a desperate situation could find the resources, time and privacy to write of such horrors. Her fingers continued to trail over her belly, and slowly, her eyes began to close, the diary falling closed as she let sleep take over. She shifted as best she could, getting comfortable on the sofa as the fatigue from the last few days finally caught up with her.

As her body relaxed and she drifted off to sleep, her subconscious mind took hold, finally free to play. She shifted, as questions began to form in her mind, as dreams of her father discovering her pregnancy... she wrapped her arms around her belly, whimpering softly. She could hear his words in her head, declaring how she'd gone soft, how she'd lost her focus, how she'd turned her back on the mission and Mossad and him, by becoming entangled with an American- and an American Federal agent, no less.

The baby kicked, and Ziva curled around her belly, memories of her mother flooding her subconscious. Memories of Rivka, of her beloved mother, kissing her forehead before leaving the apartment that fateful day. Of her last day with Tali- But soon, her own memories began to slide into the memories of someone else. They seemed almost to bear a similar tint of sadness to Ziva's life, but her subconscious knew they weren't hers.

_"Zara, listen to me. You had no choice. The baby would never have survived. Mal'ach ha-Mavet would have killed it as soon as it was born." _

_"But it was still my baby, Emilie. And I have never felt pain like that before. My daughter- he gave me a daughter, Emilie. We had a little girl. She was the last tie I had to Adrian-"_

_"Would you have rather died only for your baby to die not long after birth? Or would you rather have a chance to survive this Hell and find life again?" _

_"I want my husband... I want Adrian... you do not understand, Emilie!" _

_"I do not understand? I watched my husband be beaten by the Nazis before they shot him. I watched the officers rape and murder my younger sister. I watched them drag my son out into the street and put a bullet in his skull. I watched it all from the sewers of Munich. So do not tell me that I do not understand what it is like to lose my family, Zara. You at least got to tell Adrian goodbye. I did not get that privilege."_

Ziva shifted, caught in the dream-memory, and after a moment, she bolted upright, partially from the firm kick the baby gave her and partially from the devastating heartbreak of the dream-memory her subconscious had slipped into her mind. Shaking, Ziva shifted until her feet touched the ground, and she lay a hand on her belly, taking deep breaths.

The door opened, and she looked up as Tim slipped into the room, shutting the door softly behind him. He didn't notice her, for he had the phone against his ear, and was most likely getting chewed out by Gibbs- were Ziva to guess from his silence. As Tim hung up, Ziva picked up the diary, flipping through the book before stopping. She looked up at Tim as he slipped his phone back into his pocket. "Tim, I..." She swallowed. "She was pregnant."

He furrowed a brow. "What?"

She held the book out to him. "Zara was pregnant and she," She forced herself to swallow around the lump in her throat. "she lost the baby."


	85. Chapter 85

**Rifiuto: Non Miriena**

**A/N: Hey guys, sorry we haven't updated, but Licia and I have been trying to help Z- *****looks up to see her standing beside him* Hey sweetheart, did you slee-**

**~*holds ring out***

**Z- *shakes head* No. No, you're not breaking this off. **

**~*presses it into his hand***

***meets her gaze*_ No!_ No, Z. Don't you dare. *grabs her hand as she turns to flee, tugs her onto lap* Z, stop... fighting._ Stop_! *Takes her face in hands* I'm not letting you go. You _hear_ me? We're not ending this. We _aren't_ breaking off this engagement. We're_ not_. This and the miscarriage... they're just setbacks. We'll get through them. *wraps arms around her waist* Do you understand? *gently taps her forehead* So whatever is going on in that mind of yours, whatever it's telling you, is_ wrong_. I asked you to marry me because I _love_ you, and I can't imagine my life without you in it- as cheesy as it sounds. Do you _hear_ me?**

**~ *watches as he slides ring back on her finger, before breaking down***

**Oh, sweetheart. *tightens hold on her* I'm _right here_. I_ swear_ to you, I'm not going anywhere. *kisses her head* What is going on with you, huh? You're starting to scare me._ Please_, sweetheart, talk to me. I swear, I'll listen. *presses another kiss to her head, sniffles* I love you, sweetheart, but I can't help you if you don't _talk_ to me. Sweetheart, _please_. Let me take care of you, love, that's why I'm here. I'm gonna be your husband some day; we need to be able to talk in situations like this. You can _trust_ me, you know that. Z, love,_ please, talk to me_. **

**A/N: Thanks for the reviews, guys. Again, I'm sorry we haven't updated in a couple days, but... with everything going on with Z... we'll try to get back into a regular schedule in the next day or so. **

**Thanks to GC, Reader and sintija2001 for reviewing 84.**

_"Ninety-five percent of the survivors were Jews. They were very excited when we spoke Yiddish to one another ... In fact, a couple of them were kissing my hands and feet... They found it hard to believe that they lived, at least they lived... I got very sad over all of this. I told them we were going to do what we could, to have faith, and that they would all be set free with identity papers."_

_- Maurice Paper (1921 - ), Jewish-American GI Who was Among the Soldiers that Liberated Dachau Concentration Camp_

Berga an der Elster Labour Camp

Germany

Early August, 1945

_The banging awoke them at about four in the morning._ _Quickly, they scrambled out of the bunks, fleeing from the bunkhouse to stand outside in the chill of fall while they awaited roll call. But as they waited, they slowly began to realize that the number of guards and prisoners had greatly decreased. Men they'd worked with just hours before in the tunnels were missing, and guards that had walked back and forth, holding German Shepherds on leashes- playing cruel games of cat and mouse with the prisoners and dogs- were gone, the dogs taken as well as the prisoners. _

_Adrian glanced at Jack out of the corner of his eye, but the young American pilot shrugged, shaking his head. It was clear that he was just as clueless as the young German. They soon stood at attention as a guard made his way towards them, he looked around at each man- malnourished to the point of death, living skeletons in over-sized clothing, some with scabies, others suffering from typhus, all with lice in various stages; the POW camps were just as bad, if not worse, than the concentration camps thousands of Jews found themselves in._

_As the man got closer, Adrian lifted his head; were there to be a selection today- either a death march or a mass killing- he would go to the gates of Heaven with his head held high. And he would not apologize to St. Peter for the good he had tried to do in saving Zara and her sister. He took a deep breath as he closed his eyes, for it was now clear that he would never see her again, nor would he ever meet the child they had created- the most likely scenario being that both were dead, like so many others were. The lump in his throat made it more difficult to swallow, and he forced the sob working its way up his throat back down. Cora and his parents were waiting for him, he knew it, and would go to them with relief-_

_His eyes snapped open and he looked down as Jack reached out, taking his hand, their fingers sliding together. The pilot met his gaze, and it was clear- he wasn't to give up, not matter how badly he wanted to. "I am going to see Ann again, just as you are going to see your Zara. We can't give up, they're counting on us." Adrian scoffed gently, meeting the other man's gaze._

_"Are you Americans always this optimistic about everything?"_

_Jack shrugged. "When the occasion calls for it." He gave him a small smirk, squeezing Adrian's hand again. Adrian shook his head, before looking up. It was then that he realized the man wasn't a German-_

_He was American._

_The man gave him a smile, before pulling something from the basket they now saw he carried. Adrian, by now used to the treatment of the guards- a beating for the slightest infraction- winced and lowered his head, breaking eye contact with the man, only to feel something soft soon drape itself around his shoulders. Slowly, with curiosity and against the screaming in his head, he lifted his gaze, to find the man pressing something into his hands. "You are safe now. We've come to free you from the Nazis."_

_And then the man moved on, giving blankets and what Adrian now realized were small packages of crackers. He glanced at Jack, who gave him a small smile, and gently bumped his shoulder with his own. "I told you, Adrian. You will see your Zara again, just as I will see Ann."_

_A moment passed before Adrian returned the smile with one of his own, before tearing into the small package. Under normal circumstances, he hated crackers, but as he bit into the first solid, clean food he'd seen in months, he really didn't care. He met Jack's gaze and the other man chuckled, not at all embarrassed at the fact that he- like the many other survivors of the camp- were devouring such a simple food at crackers like a pack of wild animals. _


	86. Chapter 86

**Rifiuto: Non Miriena**

_"Fear makes you weak; anger makes you strong."_

_- Irena Sendler (1910 - 2008)_

_Berlin, Germany_

_Naval Criminal Investigative Service _

_Berlin Office _

_Two Days Later _

"You damn well better have an explanation-"

"I... I do, Boss." Tim hastily interrupted. He and Ziva stood in the MTAC within the Berlin office, the agents stationed in the city with them. It had taken them a day to figure out how the connection between Zara and Adrian- besides the one they'd already discovered- and another day to confirm what they- or rather, Ziva- suspected. She now stood further back, with Agent Mallart, who had her arm wrapped tight around her waist; the agent had grown particularly protective of the young Mossad officer since they'd been here.

"Okay." Gibbs waited. "Well, what is it, McGee?" Gibbs snapped. Tim swallowed.

"From what Officer _Da_vid and I have been able to piece together, Adrian Fromm and Zara Hirsch stayed in a cabin in the German countryside through the winter of forty-four. At some point during the last couple months of forty-four, Zara ended up pregnant. They were caught and sent to Auschwitz, where they were separated. We aren't sure where Adrian was sent, but Zara remained at Auschwitz. It was a couple months later that she ended up at the hospital ward. She recorded in her diary-" He glanced at the book in his gloved hands, before slowly opening it up. "Really, it's more like a few scraps of paper sewn into the sleeves of a really thin blanket-"

"McGee!"

He jumped, nearly dropping the book. "Right, sorry, Boss. Um..." He stammered for several minutes, before finally finding what he was looking for. "Um... Zara recorded in her diary that on June eighth, nineteen-forty-five, she gave birth to a baby girl in the hospital ward; it was..." He swallowed. "It was stillborn. She... she named it..." He turned to glance at- "Ziva."

The Israeli looked up, surprised. Though she'd read the diary cover to cover, she must have skipped that passage. Tim turned back to his boss. "We found the locket and ring in the fireplace at the cabin they stayed in, and Ziva found the dairy hidden within a pillow at Auschwitz, all we need to do is find the bicycle and... we'll have the artifacts the Zanes were looking for."

Gibbs narrowed his blue gaze, studying his agent. He wasn't particularly happy that his agent had gotten mixed up in an affair with the Mossad agent- Shepard was doing all she could to keep the Director of Mossad from yanking his daughter back to Israel and discovering the mess his only surviving child had gotten herself into. When he'd first learned of the pregnancy, Gibbs had thought nothing of it, but since he'd been forced to stand back and listen to Shepard attempt to convince Director _Da_vid that his decision to send his only child to America to work as liaison officer hadn't been a bad idea; that there were good international relations between the two agencies, and that his daughter had managed to stay out of trouble. Of course, he'd also been in the office when Shepard had been informed of the pregnancy-

Safe to say, all that had happened was that the roof had blown ten feet only to settle back atop the building. And while she'd ranted and raved, she hadn't immediately, irrationally called McGee and David back to headquarters, understanding that the mission came first, despite the secret Ziva now carried- though she was exceedingly disappointed, in both McGee and Officer David. She'd worked a case with Officer David in Cairo a couple years before, and had liked the girl. But this little setback had slowly colored Director Shepard's view of both his agent and the officer.

They knew better.

The mission always came first, the mission _always_ came first.

And if Gibbs didn't have such a fondness for the kid, he'd allow Shepard to sink her teeth into him and tear him to bits once he set foot on American soil again. But partially for the sake of Officer _Da_vid, and partially because the last thing Gibbs wanted to do was break in a new Probie, he wasn't going to allow that to happen. Which was why Gibbs was silently hoping the two would be stuck in Berlin until the baby arrived- it would give Shepard time to cool down and him time to try and hunt down and catch a killer-

"Is there any news on the Zanes' murder case?" Tim asked, glancing into the back of the room, searching for any sign of Tony or Director Shepard. The last thing he needed was the rest of the agency finding out about the mistake he'd made by getting involved with Ziva. Gibbs sighed.

"We found a few connections, but not many-" He stopped at the sound of his cell ringing. With a quick glance at Tim, he quickly dug the thing out of his pocket and flipped it open. "Gibbs." The older man sighed. "Not now, Dad... because I'm in the middle of a case... fine." He glanced at Tim. "My father wants to talk to you, McGee. Says he has something that pertains to your case in Berlin." And without another word, Gibbs hit the speaker, holding the phone out. "Dad, if you're gonna talk, talk."

A moment passed, before Jackson Gibbs spoke up; Tim started. He didn't even know Gibbs's father was still alive, let alone that he knew about the case. "Agent McGee?"

"Um... I'm here, Mr. Gibbs."

"Call me Jackson."

"_Dad_." Gibbs growled softly, and Tim winced as the Team Leader narrowed his blue eyes.

"Oh calm down, Leroy." Tim only half-listened as the older man prattled on over the phone, his ears perking up at the mention of a letter.

"What did you say, Mr. Gibbs?"

A moment passed, before Jackson spoke. "I said that I received a letter today in the mail from a fellow in Germany. Said he knew you, Agent McGee."

Tim glanced back at Ziva, who shrugged. "Did the man sign the letter?" He asked, turning back to the screen. There was a rustling of paper, before Jackson spoke again.

"Sure did." Tim bit his lip; he shouldn't have asked, because he had a sneaking suspicion of who the letter was from, but he had to hear it for himself. "Said his name was Conrad Bletcher." Jackson read. "Also said that he knew Adrian Fromm."

"Really?" Tim asked, turning as Ziva joined him, intrigued. She slipped her arm around his, keeping silent.

"Yeah. But... I've been wondering how."

"How what, Mr. Gibbs?" Ziva asked, her voice soft. Jackson sighed.

"How he could possibly know Adrian." But before the older man could continue, something clicked in Tim's mind.

"Um... Mr. Gibbs. You said... Adrian, almost like... you knew him."

"That's right, Agent McGee. I did know Adrian. I was with Adrian Fromm when the Berga an der Elster Labour Camp was liberated." Tim and Ziva shared a glance at his next words. "We were bunk mates."


	87. Chapter 87

**Rifiuto: Non Miriena**

****A/N: What happens in this chapter happened to the little girl whose family hid Jews within the walls of her home. She was fourteen, and the American soldier that found her took her to America and adopted her after liberation.- Z****

**A/N: Hey guys. Listen, Z's gonna take a break from this for a while, but I'll still be working on it. I think she's gonna help with corrections and such, but I'm gonna be doing the majority of the writing. I just think it would be better for her if Z took a break from this for a while; let her get her head back on straight and... de-stress, because, the last thing I want to do is commit my fiancee to the mental ward for a breakdown. She's curled up on the sofa beside me right now with her head in my lap, so I'm gonna post this and then put her to bed. I want her to get as much rest as she possibly can- and if I can be honest... I'm really worried about her.**

** Licia's helping look after her the best she can- thank God my big sister's a doctor- but that doesn't mean I'm not terrified that I'm gonna lose her. Sure, she hasn't said anything, but I've been in love with this woman for six years- I _know_ when she's been pushed to her limit. **

**Just... give me a couple hours to get Z settled in bed, and then I'll post the next chapters. **

**And I _know_ that Auschwitz was liberated on January 27th, 1945, but for the_ sake_ of the_ story_, liberation takes place in September. - Ev**

_"Now you are finally with me, you are safe now. Don't be afraid of anything. You don't have to worry anymore."_

_- Oskar Schindler (1908 - 1974)_

Auschwitz-Birkeneau Concentration Camp

1st September, 1945

_The chaos awoke them in the early hours of the morning; shouting, gunshots, fear. Those few remaining at Auschwitz- that hadn't been immediately killed or sent on a death march- scrambled to hide, Zara included. While most hid beneath blankets or climbed into the higher bunks to hide within the darkness of the ceiling, she slipped from the bottom bunk and crawled beneath the wood. Used to hiding within sewers and behind walls, the floor darkness, the hard stone floor beneath her hands was a welcome feeling._

_She listened as footsteps got closer, followed by the sound of shouting and wooden doors slamming; soon, the others were ushered out of the bunker. She scrambled back, until she was hidden clear in the back. She stayed quiet, dark eyes watching the dimmed darkness of the bunkhouse for signs of movement. She pressed herself further against the back of the wall when someone entered the building, and watched as a pair of boots slowly made its way towards her bunk. A moment passed as she slowly released a breath, but suddenly, she heard movement, and looked up to find the owner of the boots on his hands and knees, watching her. She tried to back up further, but found she couldn't. _

_"No, it's okay. I won't hurt you. I'm here to take you out of here." She met his gaze, his Yiddish was soft, lilting, fluent, as though he'd grown up speaking it his entire life, and after a moment, he reached out, giving her time to gauge if he was a threat or not. Slowly, she crawled towards him, reaching out to take his hand when she got close enough. He helped her out from under the bunk and then lifted her into his arms._

_She wrapped her thin arms around his neck, only momentarily frightened. The last time she'd been lifted into anyone's arms, Adrian had been- actually, she couldn't remember the last time she'd been lifted like this._

_"What's your name?" Her gaze shifted to his, and she swallowed. "I won't bite, I promise." Slowly, she began to relax, when she realized he was making a joke, and after a moment, she whispered,_

_"Zara."_

_It had been so long since she'd said her own name that the word momentarily shocked her. The young American- for that was clearly what he was, even if he spoke Yiddish- chuckled, the sound briefly reminding her of Adrian. Her heart tugged, and tears began to slip down her cheeks at the thought of the man she loved and their daughter- taken from her before she even left the womb, thanks to that horrible Dr. Perl._

_She mentally chided herself. No, Dr. Perl had done nothing but try to help a desperate situation become a little easier; though she'd sacrificed the baby within Zara's womb, she'd done it to save the young woman, and she knew it. Dr. Perl had done all she could to help her and many others at Auschwitz, even as she played ally to Dr. Mengele._

_"Zara? It's a very pretty name."_

_She gave the man a small smile, eyes shutting on instinct at the harshness of the sunlight as they left the bunkhouse. When she was finally able to open her eyes again, she looked up at him; he was kind, his eyes the darkest of brown. But what surprised her the most, was the fact that he was dark- his skin was as smooth and deep as chocolate, and she swallowed. It had been rare for her to see someone of his skin coloring, and she blushed._

_"Thank you." He gave her a smile, before,_

_"It's nice to meet you, Zara. I'm Leroy Jethro, but most people call me LJ."_

_She nodded, looking over her shoulder as they joined the other survivors, and it was then that she realized it wasn't just him, but several American men in military uniform, removing things from trucks and handing things out to other survivors. Once he set her down, one of his comrades draped a blanket over her shoulders and pressed a small bag of crackers into her hands. She stared at the bag, shock settling in that she was still alive. A moment passed, before the African- LJ, he'd said- gently tore open the bag and dumped several into her hands. Her dark eyes drank in the sight like they were the most precious of gems being given to her._

_"Eat." She met LJ's dark eyes. "You need to eat." She nodded, but didn't move to do so. But before he could urge her again, another man came up to them; he held a clipboard, and was jotting something down._

_"Can I get your name?" She studied him, suspicious. The last time she'd been asked her name with a pen, had been when she and her family had been forced to register for ID cards at the courthouse in Warsaw- when they'd been branded Jews and forced to wear yellow stars upon their clothing. To better keep track of them, Abba had told Chava, when she'd asked. "You name?" She met the man's eyes. "So that your family can find you again." _

_"Zara." She looked down at the crackers, and then glanced at LJ, before crushing them within her fist. She thought of Ima, who would be appalled to see her eating like a dog instead of a young lady like she'd been taught, but at that moment, she didn't care. She was starving- literally- like so many others who'd managed to survive. As she glanced at LJ, the young man was smiling, content that she was finally following orders, and then she glanced at the other man, who waited for her to continue. _

_"And your last name?" He asked, voice gentle, giving her time to finish. Zara thought a moment, glancing around. What was her last name? Was she a Hirsch? Her family was dead- every single one; she was the only one to survive. Or did she call herself what Adrian had asked of her? What had he asked her? It had been so long ago- a cornucopia of days and hours, of passing, starless nights and smoke-filled days, of starvation and death and scabies and human ash- she could no longer remember her name, and when she said it, the word was foreign; an odd taste, texture and weight within her mouth and on her tongue. _

_She met LJ's gaze again, thinking of the family who'd protected her, of the baby she'd lost and the man who'd given up his life for hers. Tears came to her eyes, and she turned to the man with the clipboard, her throat closing as she forever cast aside a life of Jewish stars and ghettos for hidden walls and resistance. _

_"Fromm. Zara Fromm." _


	88. Chapter 88

**Rifiuto: Non Miriena**

****A/N: Hey guys, I'll get this posted as soon as I can. Z's curled up beside me on the bed. Licia gave her a sedative to help her sleep because she hasn't been sleeping well. Rehearsal ran long tonight, and she's exhausted, both physically and mentally. I'll post as much as I can. - Ev****

****Thanks to Reader for reviewing 85, 86 and 87.****

_"For the dead and the living, we must bear witness."_

_- Elie Weisel (1928 -)_

_Berlin, Germany_

_NCIS Berlin Office_

_MTAC _

_Two Hours Later _

"I'm sorry, I don't think I heard you correctly, Mr. Gibbs. You _what_?"

Tim glanced at Ziva; he was just as surprised as she was at this new revelation. That Gibbs's father had known Adrian Fromm- it was a shock, and not just for them. The wide blue eyes were evidence that Gibbs hadn't known about it either.

"Adrian Fromm and I were bunk mates." Jackson replied, voice taking on a hint of sadness as he reflected on the past that he'd managed to survive. "In _Berga an der Elster_. I was in the Air Force, shot down and captured over Germany by the Nazis in late forty-four." Gibbs glanced at Tim and Ziva, blue eyes filled with surprise as he listened to his father. "_Berga_ was a German labour camp for prisoners-of-war. But others ended up there too- political prisoners and those that defied Hitler. Adrian was one of those who'd stood up to the dictator."

"Yeah, we know. He... he was a member of the White Rose at Munich University-" Tim muttered.

"And he hid two Jewish girls in the walls of his home-"

"Yeah, we... we've seen it." Tim replied, thinking of the house with the hole in the wall where the two girls had hidden for nearly a year. Of how he and Ziva now owned it thanks to Conrad. "We... we own it now. _Herr_ Bletcher left the house to us in his will." Jackson chuckled, and Gibbs shook his head.

"Adrian did say that Conrad was always thinking ahead to the future and turning his back on the past. Something Adrian couldn't seem to do. He got so caught up in trying to protect his precious Zara that he near starved to death in_ Berga_."

"Wait, how do you know about Zara?" Ziva finally spoke up, unable to stop herself. Gibbs raised an eyebrow, and though she lifted her head to meet his gaze, she kept her mouth shut.

"Adrian never stopped talking about her. Told me everything he knew about her; even told me she'd been pregnant when they were captured-"

"She lost the baby." Tim whispered, glancing at Ziva, who let go of his arm and wrapped her own protectively around her belly. She met Gibbs's gaze, silently daring him to tell Shepard to call her father and yank her back to Israel. But the older man just shook his head, sighing. Gibbs wouldn't do that, and both she and he knew it. "She was chosen by Mengele and in order to save her from being his next experiment, Dr. Perl broke her water and sent her into labor; the baby was stillborn."

He chuckled dryly. "She had a daughter, and named the baby Ziva." Tim sighed, tired of relaying the same information he'd relayed twice previously. "We've found the ring and locket as well as Zara's diary, but we have yet to find Adrian's bike." Tim swallowed, slipping into the spiel Gibbs had drilled into their heads. "Now if you have any information in regards to the_ case_-"

"Wait a minute." Ziva laid a hand on Tim's arm, stepping forward. "Mr. Gibbs?"

"Ah, you must be Officer David." She swallowed, nodding despite the fact that he couldn't see her. She didn't bother correcting him.

"Yes."

"Jethro tells me that you and Agent McGee are preparing for a baby." The couple shared a glance. "Do you have everything you need?"

"Well, Mr. Gibbs, we... we actually haven't thought... we've been so focused on the..."

"Now you listen to me, Agent McGee." Jackson started, cutting the young agent off. "That baby is going to need you both-"

"The case, Dad!" Gibbs snapped, noticing the uneasy looks on the pair's faces. "Did you happen to keep in touch with Adrian Fromm after the camps were liberated?"

"and if you don't-" Jackson stopped, thinking. "No, sadly, I didn't. Which was a shame; he was a nice fellow, too, if a little kwirky, but I just chalked it up to him being German and having grown up listening to that nut, Hitler. He was probably... oh, a little younger than me... Anyway, when the camps were liberated, there were boards set up in the courthouses of the cities, with lists of survivors from the camps to find family members."

Tim glanced at Ziva. "_And_?"

Jackson shrugged, scratching his head. "We looked, but there were was no Zara Hirsch on the list. We checked every single list they had from each camp, but never found her-"

"Wait a minute, slow down. Just... _hold on_." Tim turned to Ziva; she furrowed a brow, meeting his gaze.

"Tim? What is it?" He grabbed her shoulders, shaking her gently. "Talk to me. You are scaring me, say something."

"Don't you _get it_, Ziva?"

"What am I supposed to get?" She'd listened to Jackson's story, and while it's been interesting, she'd failed to see the significance of it. Tim sighed, glancing over her shoulder at Gibbs, before turning back to her.

"She could have changed her name, Ziva!"

One slender eyebrow rose. "Who?" Tim sighed internally. Either she was tired from the case or getting closer to the end of her pregnancy was starting to wear on Ziva's mind.

"_Zara!_ If she survived the camps, then after liberation, she _could_ have changed her_ name_!" Ziva watched him, forcing herself to put the pieces together in her mind.

"She could have dropped her last name." Ziva whispered. Tim nodded, a grin tugging at his lips.

"And changed it." He added. She thought a moment, before her dark eyes lit up and she smiled at him, as they soon found themselves on the same wavelength, crying out in unison,

"To _Fromm_!"


	89. Chapter 89

**Rifiuto: Non Miriena**

****Thanks to sintija2001 and Reader for reviewing 88.****

_"Sometimes I wish the end would come... whatever it is."_

_- Margot Frank (1926 - 1945), Older Sister of Anne Frank_

Near Berga an der Elster

Germany

After Liberation

A Day Later

_The truck rumbled down the dirt path, jostling those who rode in the bed of the truck. The openness of the truck bed was a day at the beach compared to the cold, dark cramped quarters of the train cars they'd arrived in at Auschwitz; but now, they were leaving that horror behind. It had taken the Americans the rest of the previous day to make sure the survivor were fed and looked after before they were to take them back to Berlin. Zara breathed in the fresh air, it filled her lungs before making its way into her bloodstream._

_She wrapped the blanket she'd been given tighter around her shoulders, looking out through the slats that were on either side of the bed to keep supplies from flying off, but she didn't see. Her mind was on Adrian, on their daughter, and her sister and her family and the Fromms... each had given their lives for this cause:_

_Protect the Jews._

_She sniffled, folding in on herself. A lot of good protecting the Jews had done- decimated an entire family, sent millions of her people to the camps; she'd lost friends, family, childhood crushes to the Holocaust. Her father had lost his business and their family the mild wealth they'd gained over the years, traded in for yellow stars and open-air prisons, hollowed-out walls and crematoriums, starvation and death- all because they'd been Jews. And Adrian and his family... they could have stayed out of it, turned their backs on the plight of the Jews. Zara had expected, that long ago night, for Adrian to turn his back on her and Chava, to leave them to search for shelter, and yet... _

_And yet, he hadn't._

_He'd taken them back to his home and hidden them in the walls of his house, risking his life and the lives of his sister and parents for two Jews. She choked on a sob. And now he was dead, all thanks to her. She wrapped her arms around her middle, thinking of the daughter Adrian had given her, of the beautiful baby girl she had held only once, that she had had time to name before handing her over to Dr. Perl. Had the baby lived, Zara could only imagine that she would possess Adrian's beautiful eyes-_

_She burrowed under the blanket, folding into her corner of the truck bed, resting her head against the wood, tears misting her vision. Her words came floating back to her, from that long ago day in the cabin when she'd discovered her pregnancy, when she'd given up on the one thing that had gotten her people through everything they'd faced for centuries._

_"God would not allow this to happen... there is no God, just as there is no messiah."_

_She swallowed, wrapping her hands around the blanket, choking back a sob. She deserved this, to have lost her baby and the man she loved, for she'd committed an Isurei bi'ah- a forbidden act- within her religion. She had forsaken her faith in order to have sex with Adrian, a Gentile. She had conceived a mamzer- though there was no real term for a child of illegitimate sexual union within her religion- and her punishment for both acts had been Adrian's being ripped from her arms and their daughter being taken from body, the life taken out of her before she even left the womb._

_"Is this my punishment?" She rested her head against the wood, tears slipping down her cheeks. "I turn my back on you and so you take everything from me- the man I love and the baby he and I created together? Because I no longer believe in You?" She sniffled. "Well, good. I do not need a god to tell me how to live and whom I cannot love. I do not need a religion that dictates everything I do and when I can and cannot do things. No God would allow His people to be treated as we have been treated-" She lifted her head as the truck came to a halt. "What is going on?"_

_"The others shrugged, unsure. She turned back to the stare through the driver in the front of the car. "Why have we stopped?" But before she could ask again, the soldiers got out of the car, unlatching the back of the truck._

_"You need to stretch your legs a bit. Been cooped up too long." LJ said, helping the other survivors down. As Zara felt her feet land on solid ground, she let her gaze wander. They were near some sort of camp, but she wasn't sure where, though she could see other trucks- some American, some French, some various other countries. There were others gathered around; other survivors obviously- none of them Jews, however. She turned to LJ, confused. He sighed. "We're near Berga an der Elster. POWs- Prisoners-of-War. Mostly Americans, but some French, others British, some Soviets. Maybe even a few Germans, depending on their crimes._"

_Zara's ears perked up. Germans? There were Germans here? She turned back to the other trucks. Her heart flipped, though she tried so hard to squash it down. Maybe, just maybe-_

_She shook her head, no. Adrian was dead. He had either been gassed or shot immediately upon arrival. Tears began to mist her vision, and she choked on a sob. Adrian and their baby girl, their precious Ziva- who never survived birth long enough to meet her father, her aunts, her grandparents- were gone-_

_Two men caught her eye, both prisoners, both as thin as she was; one had his back to her, and she slowly moved closer. The build of the man looked familiar- _

_And then he turned around; her heart leapt into her throat. _

_"A... Adrian?"_


	90. Chapter 90

**Rifiuto: Non Miriena**

****A/N: She's got _Nutcracker_- that keeps her occupied, but only for a few hours. ****

****~ Evan, she'll be _fine_. Okay? She knows we're here for her. She also knows that your readers are here for her. ****

****I know, Licia, I just... she came home last night after rehearsal and burst into tears for no apparent reason.****

****~ Did you ask her what was wrong? ****

****Yes.****

****~ _And?_****

****Nothing. She told me that _nothing_ was wrong.****

****~ Look, I know you're worried about her. But let her get through _Nutcracker_, and once the last show wraps, take her up to Portland or down to San Fran for the break. Get her away for a while. Take her to Ashland. You both love Ashland. Make it a getaway and do whatever she wants to do. I think, brother, that you both need to get away for a while- from all the stress and the hurt and the memories of your baby. I think you were both so focused on getting over the miscarriage, that you both managed to neglect yourselves. ****

****Li-****

****~ May I finish, please? Thank you. Now, I think you need to enjoy being in each others' company and enjoy your engagement- especially before you tell Mom and Dad because you _know_ how_ he'll_ react. *wraps arm around his shoulders* Spend some alone time with your fiancee before Dad ruins it. Make her remember why she said yes in the first place. Okay? ****

*****nods*****

****~ Good. *presses kiss to his temple* Zanie's a lucky girl, getting my baby brother for her future husband.****

****Thanks sintija2001 and Reader for reviewing 89.****

_"___I knew what I took upon myself and I was prepared to lose my life by so doing._"_

_- Hans Scholl (1918 - 1943), One of the Core Members of The White Rose_

_German Countryside_

_Two Months Later_

Tim sighed; it had been a struggle to get Ziva to agree to return to the hotel instead of come with him to the German countryside in search of Adrian's bike. It had been two months since the discovery of Jackson Gibbs's connection to Adrian Fromm. In that time, Tim and Ziva had received a severe scolding from both Gibbs and Shepard, had made plans just in case they ended up staying in Berlin when the baby arrived, and had taken time to track down several other leads and chart out a chronology of what had happened to the pair, and, throw in the rain that had practically flooded the city- thank you, non-existent global warming- and they'd gotten a lot done in regards to the Zane's artifacts, but not much done in regards to the murder investigation. But then again, NCIS was handling that; their concern was getting their hands on the artifacts before someone else did.

Tim shifted, rolling his shoulders. Ziva hadn't been sleeping well; she'd been up and down most nights, thanks to the baby. And she'd been adamant that she was going to come today, but Tim had put his foot down-

And somehow, someway, Agent Mallart had managed to convince the young Israeli officer to stay put- she did have a doctor's appointment, after all. Although Tim had a sneaking suspicion that the reason Ziva had agreed to stay behind because Agent Mallart had told Ziva she was going to take her shopping in search of a few essentials she'd need for when the baby arrived, and Ziva had reluctantly agreed.

His phone buzzed and he quickly pulled it out, smirking at the text from Ziva.

_Doctor says twenty-eight weeks._

"Twenty-eight weeks?" He turned, meeting Agent Wilkins's gaze. "She's getting close."

Tim nodded. "Yeah. When I talked to Gibbs that day we found the diary, Ziva was about... I want to say about five months or so." He sighed, his eyes took on a mist of sadness.

"Have you two decided-" He shook his head.

"We haven't talked about it. We've been so focused on the case, that... it hasn't occurred to even discuss what we're going to do after the baby's born or how custody is going to work out or-"

"You two should stay together."

"What?"

"You heard me. A child needs both her parents, no matter what. You and Officer _Da_vid need to stay together, no matter your feelings. Your daughter comes first."

Tim sniffed derisively, lifting his chin. "And you would know _because_?"

"Because my wife divorced me when my kids were toddlers. They were shuffled back and forth for years, before I finally gained full custody. Treating them like they're balls in a ping pong tournament really screws a kid up." Wilkins gave him a small smile.

"Who did they end up with?"

The other agent sighed. "Me. And that's only because my ex finally gave up and decided that she didn't want the responsibility of raising children on her own."

"How old are they?"

Wilkins chuckled. "Six and eight." They walked on in silence for several minutes, moving through the small village in the German countryside. Tim had figured out that it had been the scene of a massacre of Gentile farmers who'd been captured hiding Jews in late forty-four. The few who'd managed to survive by escaping into the fields - only a handful, five at most- had spoken of a barn being burned down and hearing the screams of a child echo through the fields, coming from the village.

Now, Tim and Wilkins walked the remains of the village- abandoned homes, burnt remnants of the homes and buildings that had once stood strong and proud- now nothing but a village of ghosts and whispered screams. They were silent as they searched, each lost in his own thoughts, before Wilkins spoke up.

"You know that a baby changes everything, Tim. Tim?" Wilkins turned, to find Tim on his knees. "What are you doing?" He joined the younger man, confused as to why the other agent was digging in the dirt. "What-"

But Tim only noticed as his fingers finally struck metal, and after several minutes, he was able to dig away enough of the dirt to lift his discovery partially out of the ground. "Wilkins, call Mallart and Ziva. I just found Adrian Fromm's bike."


	91. Chapter 91

**Rifiuto: Non Miriena**

****A/N: Come here, love. *pulls her onto lap in front of fire, wraps arms around her* What do you say about going up to Ashland after Christmas? ****

****~ *meets his gaze, cocks her head* ****

**We could spend the break seeing a few shows and go shopping and just relax. Hmm? Sound good? *presses kiss to her temple* We could relax and I could spend the time reminding you of how lucky I am to have you in my life. *raises eyebrows suggestively and nuzzles nose against her cheek* How's that sound, love?**

**~ *giggles quietly* **

**Say something, Z, please. *waits* No? *Sighs* Okay. So, we on for Ashland? **

**~ *nods* **

**Good. *kisses her sweetly* I love you, Z. *takes her face in hand* This will be good for us, Z, I_ promise_. We'll get away for a while and... find what we lost when we lost our baby.**

**~ *meets his gaze, confused***

**Us. Okay, Z? We're gonna find _us_ again- that's a promise.**

****Thanks to Reader and sintija2001 for reviewing 90. ****

_"But miracles still happen, even if we don't think they do."_

_- Diet Eman (1920- )_

Near Berga an der Elster

1945

_She slowly pushed her way through the small crowd of survivors she'd been traveling with- eyes never leaving the man's face. She couldn't believe it. He... he looked like Adrian-_

_But then again, every man she'd seen since arriving at the camp had looked like Adrian to her. Without realizing it, she'd projected his eyes, his smile onto the face of every man she came in contact with, so desperate her desire to join him in the afterlife, for she no longer believed in Heaven. But this-_

_There was no way this was real._

_"A... drian? Adrian?" She stopped, tugging the blanket closer, waiting for the man's features to morph into someone else's, for him to look at her strangely, like so many had done when she'd approached, searching for the man she considered her husband, for any sign that he was still alive. She slowly moved to step closer and then stopped. "Adrian?"_

_The man looked up, his gaze boring into hers. He studied her for a moment, brow furrowing in confusion, his lips parting slightly to speak, and her heart began to sink. It wasn't him. She needed to accept that. She had no choice but to accept that he was gone, just as her family, and his, and some five million other families. He and Cora had risked their lives for Jews and paid the ultimate sacrifice. "Es... es tut mir leid," She whispered, lowering her gaze to keep from crying in front of the man. "I... I thought-"_

_He studied her, silent. Her voice sounded familiar, her German was rusty, shaky. And her face- he could have sworn that he'd seen her somewhere before._

_But it had been so long since he'd been around a woman-_

_Still, there was something about the girl standing just feet from him that tugged at his heart. Something about her screamed that they had once met, once been intimate, even. It was something, deep down in the few remaining, shattered fragments of his soul, that told him she had once meant something immensely important to him. It screamed at the top of its weakened voice that this woman had once held a part of his soul within her, that still held a part of his soul inside her, and that he held a part of hers. _

_And slowly, it got louder and louder until it became the rushing of a river within his head. _

_He stepped closer, gaze moving over her- and then, their eyes connected, holding for longer than a few mere seconds. His voice was rough as he spoke, breathing out the one name his heart had given up on, but his soul never had. "Zara?"_

_Her head snapped up, and she struggled desperately to strangle the tiny flicker of hope igniting in her stomach. But try as she might, it wouldn't go out, and soon it ignited completely, turning her insides into a blazing wildfire of hope. She moved closer, only to stop. "Adrian?" He started, surprised to hear his name caressed by her lips- and yet, it felt so right, hearing her mouth form around his name. Such a simple action invoked memories he'd struggled to forget- the sweet, melodious sounds of her release as he wrapped himself around her and they joined together, their souls combining as their hearts began to beat as one-_

_"Zara." His whisper was soft; even as his heartbeat accelerated. This time, when their eyes met, his heart leapt into his throat. He choked on it, tears clogging his throat as it returned to his chest. "Zara!" _

_She burst into tears, the blanket falling from her grasp as she rushed towards him, her gaze becoming blurred as tears began to rush down her cheeks. Soon, however, they collided- two stars separated by the milky way come together again to create beautiful constellations- her arms snapping around his neck as he caught her around the waist, holding her even tinier frame inches off the ground. Their lips soon met, in a kiss long dreamed about but never accepted as truth in the camps. When he pulled away to meet her gaze, his heart began to settle, content to beat against her chest, in time with her own. He choked on a sob, reaching up to cradle her cheek. "Zara... I thought I'd lost you..." _

_"I did." She burst into tears as he set her down. "I was convinced I would never see you again... but you are here... you are... you... my arms..." She threw her arms once more around his neck, sobbing. He held her close, telling himself this was real. And then she was talking again, the words tumbling out of her mouth at rapid speed as she told him of their baby girl, and how he would never meet their daughter. "She is gone... she never lived... she... our little Ziva... never... she... never breathed outside my womb... I... I had no choice, Adrian... she would never survived... she never... I had to let Dr. Perl... I killed our baby, Adrian... I had no choice... I killed our baby girl... I had to... I'm so sorry... I'm so..."_

_But all he did was study her, unable to process all she was saying. Instead, he responded by shaking his head and pulling her mouth back to his with a soft,_

_"Hush, Zara, my love. Hush, my wife. It'll be okay. We'll be okay." _

_So absorbed in each other, they didn't notice the American Army officer documenting their reunion with his camera, frame by still black and white frame._


	92. Chapter 92

**Rifiuto: Non Miriena**

****A/N: This chapter was written this way for a reason... let's see if you can figure it out...****

_"Own only what you can always carry with you: know languages, know countries, know people. Let your memory be your travel bag."_

_- __Aleksandr Solzhenitsyn __(1918 - 2008)_

_Berlin, Germany_

_Scandic Berlin Potsdamer Platz Hotel_

_Nine Weeks Later_

"Are you nervous?" Ziva met Agent Mallart's gaze. "You have three weeks left." She reached over, gently resting a hand on the young officer's belly. "She's getting ready, after all. You ready to become a mommy?"

Ziva chuckled softly, laying a hand over her belly. Tim and Agent Wilkins had informed them about the bike weeks earlier, and had since dashed down to Munich in search of the manufacturer, hoping they could trace the trail from Munich and up. They'd left Agent Mallart in charge of Ziva- a task the other woman took quite seriously. "To be honest? No. I am not. I do not know the first thing about raising a child, let alone a baby-"

"Can I give you some advice, Officer _Da_vid?" Agent Mallart interrupted her; the two women locked gazes. A moment passed before Ziva nodded, silent. "Don't push Agent McGee away. A little girl needs her father as much, if not more, than she needs her mother. Now you can raise this baby alone, she's your daughter after all, but she would benefit from having Agent McGee in her life- he is her daddy, after all." Then, without another word, she stood, going to Ziva and leaning down to whisper,

"Do not let him get away, Ziva. I know it may seem like you can raise her on your own, but you need Agent McGee there. He'll be your comfort when you think you can't take anymore, and your rock when you hit the darkest patches. You need him as much as he needs you, if not more. I'll be back in ten. I'm just gonna dash down and get some more ice, okay." Then, she pressed a kiss to Ziva's temple and left, shutting the door softly behind her.

Ziva sighed, getting up and making her way to the bedroom once Agent Mallart was gone. She slowly removed her clothing, pulling on her pajamas, suddenly exhausted. As her silk pajamas slid over her skin- Agent Mallart had insisted that day that she get a pair, saying that she'd be grateful she had a pair on hand when it got closer to the birth- she sighed, allowing her hands to move to caress her belly as she curled up beneath the covers and drifted off to sleep. She'd asked the young agent how she'd known about the pajamas, curious, to which the young woman had told her of a marriage that had started in pregnancy, and how she'd lost her two-year-old daughter and her husband to a car accident at eighteen. Foster children, both of them, fleeing from the homes they'd age out of at eighteen; finding each other and, after a night of wild sex, falling in love with the baby in her womb before each other. Though Agent Mallart's story was tinted in sadness, there were elements of Ziva and Tim's story within hers; maybe that was why she was so determined that the couple stay together.

She settled among the blankets and pillows, the baby kicking against her skin as she shifted and moved within her mother's womb, trying to get comfortable. As she drifted off to sleep, her body curled around her belly, sleep taking hold.

_"We have a very active little one." _

She shifted, burying her face further in the pillow as the voice softly caressed her cheek.

_"Little girl, Adrian. We are having a little girl."_

_"And how would you know, my love?"_

_"... A woman knows her body. And a mother knows the child growing within her."_

_"And you would know that, how, exactly?"_

_"Because I am going to be a mother. I am carrying your baby, after all, am I not?"_

Ziva shifted onto her back, kicking the covers away from her body. The voices ringing in her head soon changed, sliding into other voices, one old, one new, but both invading her dreams and taking over her memories. _Replacing_ her memories.

_"Make them stop, please! I cannot do this! I cannot give birth, I am not strong enough!"_

_"This is not a question of strength, Zara. Your body is preparing, and it is not going to stop until the baby is expelled-"_

_"Do not make me do this, please, Dr. Perl! I am not ready-"_

A scream rattled her from her sleep, echoing in her head as she bolted upright, struggling to catch her breath. The muscles around her belly clenched, and she reached for her cell, quickly searching for Tim's number as the door to the suite opened and closed. She could hear Mallart in the other room, calling out to her, but couldn't focus enough on forming a response in her head to reply; she dropped the phone, doubling over as muscles clenched and twisted, forcing a cry of surprise from her throat.

Footsteps rushed towards the bedroom, and the door opened; she looked up. "Oh God, Ziva-" The younger woman reached out for her; Mallart took her hands, helping her to the edge of the bed. She shook her head, not wanting to believe that her body was really going through what it was.

"No. I... I have three weeks left..." Mallart met her gaze.

"It doesn't matter if you have three weeks or thirty, when the baby decides to come, nothing will stop it. Trust me, Ziva, I've been in your shoes. I know what labor is like, and I know how painful it can get and how to deal with the contractions. So come on, walking will help with the pain." But just as she stood, the sound of something breaking. Ziva met Mallart's eyes; the other woman knew exactly what it was, and what it meant.

Two hours later, she was grasping at anything within reach, locked deep within the clutches of a full-blown, hard and difficult labor.


	93. Chapter 93

**Rifiuto: Non Miriena**

****A/N: You were wonderful tonight, Z. The show was amazing. Absolutely amazing.****

****~ *slides arms around neck, looks up at mistletoe over door*****

****I love you, Z. *kisses her softly* Next year will be better, I promise.****

****Thank to sintija2001 for reviewing 92 and Reader for reviewing 91 and 92. ****

_ "I thought: Now I am like Dante. I walk through hell, but I am not burning."_

_- Edith Hahn Beer (1914 - 2009), Austrian Jew who Survived the Holocaust by Marrying a Nazi Officer_

Berlin, Germany

1892 _Leipziger Straße_

Four Weeks Later

1945

_Many who survived the camps gave up their lives with the sweet taste of freedom on their lips. Adrian found it amazing, how so many people- particularly the Jews- who'd survived such horrors of the camps only did so long enough to walk beneath the signs hanging over the gates before dying, mostly of prolonged starvation. Despite the fact that they were free, it seemed that many had chosen instead to go with Death; perhaps the loss of friends, family and loved ones was too immense, too earth-shattering, for them to continue living._

_He sighed. The survivors had spent the last four weeks_ _being looked after by nurses and doctors who'd come with the Allies. Men and women had been separated and given showers, clean clothes and looked over in regards to medical health. Adrian had never been so relieved to feel warm water again, to wash the dust and grime off his skin. He and the others that had survived Berga had been brought to Berlin, looked over and placed in hospital. Adrian had been given his identity back, not that he particularly wanted it._

_All he had known before he'd left behind when he decided to take Zara and Eva home and hide them in the wall of his room._

_His parents were gone, destroyed in the camps. Cora had never lived to see her eighteenth birthday; it was her blood and the blood of a Nazi that had mixed upon the stone streets of Berlin that long ago day, as one was killed for doing the right thing and the other was killed in revenge. She had died in the street, in his arms, her blood seeping into the stone as it stained her dress and painted his hands._

_He glanced behind him; Zara was sitting on the floor, a blanket wrapped around her, staring into the wood beneath her feet. Adrian's aunt and uncle had come and searched for him, he'd insisted on Zara coming, and once he'd explained the situation, they'd agreed; his aunt Gerda had always trusted her brother to make the right choices- and when it came to life and death, she knew that Henrik could never turn his back on someone in need. She'd given them a room at the back of the second floor, knowing both would want privacy; the woman hadn't asked his relationship to Zara- it was evident that Adrian was involved with her, though to what extent, she and her husband didn't ask._

_A moment passed, before he went to her; she didn't move, didn't speak- if it wasn't for the sight of her chest slowly rising and falling, he'd have worried that she'd stopped breathing. Sighing, he took her hand, studying her fingers before leaning over and pressing a kiss to her head. Then he stood and slipped out of the room, heading downstairs._

_He found his aunt and uncle in the kitchen, fixing coffee. Gerda gave him a soft smile. "Sit, Adrian, love." A moment passed before he did as told, accepting the coffee cup she set before him. "Where is Zara?"_

_"Upstairs. She..." He swallowed. "I... I'm worried about her. She has... nowhere to go. Her family is gone, her home is..." He sighed. "She has no home and no family."_

_"She has you, Adrian." He looked up, meeting his uncle's eyes. A moment passed, before he nodded, tears coming to his eyes. They had understood, that was the best thing he could ask for._

_"She's my wife, in all but legality." He glanced at his aunt and uncle, waiting for their reactions, but when neither said a word, he continued. "It was a... a self-uniting marriage, we... we were having a baby..." He met his aunt's gaze, tears in his eyes. "A little girl. We had a daughter-"_

_"What happened to her, Adrian?" Gerda asked, reaching out and taking his hand. He swallowed thickly. _

_"From what Zara told me... she caught the eye of Mengele." Gerda shook her head, shivering. They knew the Mengeles- all of the Fromms did. The families had been close for years- to know what Josef Mengele was capable of turned Gerda and Wilhelm against their friends quickly, and to discover that their nephew had known some of those who had lost their lives at the hands of Mengele-_

_"Dear God." Gerda swallowed thickly. "Please tell me he didn't-"_

_Adrian shook his head. "No. He never got his hands on her, or the bab_y._ Dr. Perl, the gynecologist, induced labor and..." He sniffled. "It was Zara or the baby... they both couldn't survive; one of them had to be sacrificed..." He broke down, unable to stem the heartbreak he'd been handed that day weeks ago when Zara had burst into tears and told him of the daughter he would never meet. But it was only just now that the realization of what had happened and what they'd lost had hit him. His aunt got up, going to him. She pulled him into her arms, pressing a kiss to his forehead._

_"Oh Adrian, you will have other children. Someday you and Zara will find yourselves cradling this beautiful little human being in your arms and you will thank God-"_

_"No. We will never have other children." The other three turned to see Zara standing in the doorway, the blanket wrapped tight around her. "I am so sorry, Adrian." She sniffled. "But I can never have children again. The Mal'ach ha-Mavet made sure of that." _


	94. Chapter 94

**Rifiuto: Non Miriena**

**A/N: Yes, the past mirrors the present...- Z**

****Thanks to Reader and sintija2001 for reviewing 93.****

_ "It is worthwhile to live. God rewarded me. He rewards me even more now."_

_- Dr. Gisella Perl (1907 - 1988)_

_Berlin, Germany_

_Scandic Berlin Potsdamer Platz Hotel_

_Two Hours Later_

She dug her nails into the blankets of the bed, her teeth sliding into the soft flesh of her bottom lip as she struggled to breathe through the contraction. They'd called Tim and Agent Wilkins, informing them of what was going on, then informed the hotel of what was going on; surprisingly, the hotel was exceedingly accommodating to it- if the girls didn't know any better, they'd have suspected that babies were born in the rooms all the time- and then called the birth center she and Tim had planned on using; it was evident that the baby wouldn't wait to be born at the center- she wanted to be born _now_. And nothing and no one was going to get in her way.

"Okay, Agent McGee and Agent Wilkins have caught the first train back to Berlin- they just left Potsdam. They'll be here as soon as they possibly can." Mallart set the phone down and then rushed to her side, kneeling next to her to rub slow circles on Ziva's back. The young officer choked on a scream, burying her face in the blanket. "I know. I know it hurts, I've been there. Trust me, Ziva, I know what's it's like to be in your shoes." The young mother-to-be reached back, grabbing Mallart's hand.

"What do I do?"

"What you need to, Ziva. Listen to your body. It'll tell you what to do next." As Mallart helped the younger woman back onto the bed, Ziva met her gaze.

"How do you know that?"

"I had a daughter, remember? And I have a degree in nursing, but I never used it."

"Until now." Ziva replied, and Mallart nodded.

"Until now." Just as she was about to continue, her phone rang, and she excused herself, realizing it was Tim and Wilkins, promising to be right outside the door if Ziva needed her.

Another two hours passed, followed by a third and a fourth and a fifth and a sixth. Soon, before Ziva knew it, she was caught up in eight hours of labor- early stages , the pain getting worse with each new contraction. She shifted onto her side, ignoring everything around her but the pain.

Was this how Zara felt, when Dr. Perl broke her water and manually dilated her? Was the pain as excruciating, given the circumstances of the birth? Was it as painful for her as it was for Ziva- who had experienced her waters breaking naturally instead of manually? Or was it ten times worse, knowing that her baby wouldn't live to take its first breath, knowing that Adrian was gone, that her family was gone, and that, if she were not careful, she herself could be next, all thanks to the Germans and their quest for the perfect Aryan race? Had she felt her cervix dilate and begged to God to allow her baby to live, to take her instead and allow her child to survive- even when the world her child would have entered was nothing more than one giant Hell surrounded by electric barbed-wire?

Had part of Zara's soul died as she gave birth, perhaps knowing that her child wouldn't survive outside of her womb? Ziva'd read the diary- the entries about the birth had been cold, distant, as though Zara had been trying so hard to keep herself removed from such a personal event-

She wrapped her arms around her belly as another contraction took hold. She didn't hear the rush of footsteps down the hall or the slamming of a door. She didn't hear the voices or the bedroom door opening; didn't hear Tim's soft voice, filled with worry, or his touch as he gently brushed his fingers through her sweaty hair. She was unaware that for the last four hours, she'd been caught in the grip of active labor- perhaps the hardest stage of this whole birthing process. She knew that part of the reason early labor was so difficult, was probably because she was terrified; her mother had died when she was young, and Shirah had never bothered to inform her of love and childbirth- she had been more concerned with keeping her niece alive, with training her niece to become a killer and prepare for the very difficult realization that she would most likely never live to marry, let alone have children.

Her mind went back to Zara- had she felt that same, not having a mother to explain the most basic of human things, such as childbirth? Had the contractions ripping her body in two been as frightening as the camps, or were they worse? Had she expected to die during birth, as was common with inadequate care? Or was she frightened of death?

Through the haze and fog of the pain, she heard Tim's soft voice, felt the brush of his fingers over her forehead. "I'm right here, Ziva. I'm not going anywhere. What do you need me to do, love? Hmm? What do you need?"

She looked up at him, before pushing him away.

Somehow, someway, she managed to move to the floor, leaning back against the bed in a squatting position. And then she met his gaze, but didn't see him; she only focused on the task at hand, closing her eyes and letting out a groan, her arms wrapping around her belly.

The pain was too much, the contractions too strong.

"Ziva, sweetheart, talk to me." Her eyes snapped open and she found herself face to face with Agent Mallart, who held her hand, allowing the laboring young woman to dig her nails into her wrist. "What's your body telling you to do, Ziva?"

The officer took a deep breath, gasping for air amid the pain, before she dug grabbed Tim's hand and dug her nails into his flesh, choking out,

_"I have to push... oh, God... it won't stop... it hurts..."_

"I know it does, Ziva, believe me, I do." She nodded, only vaguely hearing Mallart bark orders at Wilkins to grab towels from the bathroom; the other agent did as told, coming back with an armful of towels, one of which he lay beneath Ziva's body over the hardwood floor. "Ziva, if you feel like you have to push, then you push. Okay? Do you understand me?"

She nodded, gasping for air as she felt the baby start to crown. A burning sensation soon lit every nerve on fire as the head continued to appear. She bit her lip, tasting copper as she bore down, feeling the baby continue to move out of her. A scream escaped her throat, shattering the fog that had previously filled her senses and setting off alarms of noise- every sound resonated down to the bone, every push, every squeeze, every movement of the baby as it made its way out of her and into the world, every scream that escaped her throat- sliced through skin and muscle to carve into the very bones of her being.

_"Oh, God, I do not want to do this anymore! Get it out! Please! Get it out!"_

"We can't, Ziva. You have _keep. Pushing_!" Mallart told her; she'd pulled on a pair of gloves- thank God as agents, they were ordered to take gloves wherever they went- and reached down, having told Wilkins to take Ziva's other hand and allow her to break if possible. Though he wasn't looking forward to broken bones, he understood the severity of the situation. _"Push, Ziva! Harder!" _

She bore down harder, feeling something that she didn't realize was the shoulder come out. Another push sent her hips bucking, and her teeth sliced through her lower lip, cutting completely through the thin, soft skin. "Good girl, Ziva. That's a good girl, you're doing wonderfully." The gentleness of Tim's voice soothed her, and she leaned her head back, struggling to catch her breath.

_"Keep pushing, Ziva!"_ She lifted her head, bearing down with everything she had, a scream escaping her throat-

Blood and fluid splashed upon the floor, and Ziva soon heard the shrill cries of a newborn. Her dark eyes opened, to see Mallart quickly cleaning and wrapping a baby in one of the towels. She managed a quick, small smile, barely hearing that she had a daughter, before she let out a groan. Tim's head snapped up, and he met her gaze. "Ziva, love, what's wrong? Ziva, talk to me."

She met his gaze, choking on her words,

"Tim, I... have to push... I have to push again..."

His green eyes widened briefly in shock. _"Again?"_ She nodded, before she bore down once more. Mallart, realizing what was going on, quickly handed the newborn to Wilkins, before reaching down between Ziva's legs.

Which was a good thing, because it didn't take long before the second baby made its entrance, the head appearing within seconds of its sister's birth, followed quickly by the body as, after nearly nine months and almost sixteen hours of labor, it made its surprise arrival in the world.


	95. Chapter 95

**Rifiuto: Non Miriena**

_ "Please forgive me. I cannot write anymore. I wish you the best.__"_

_- Chiune Sugihara (1900 - 1986)_

Berlin, Germany

1892 Leipziger Straße

An Hour Later

_"What do you mean, 'the Mal'ach...Mavet took care of that', Zara? What the hell is a-"_

_"It is the 'Angel of Death,' Adrian." She whispered. _

_The two had returned to their room upstairs, the door slamming behind the pair, followed quickly by raised voices- or, a raised voice, rather- that made both Gerda and Wilhelm cringe. It was rare that their nephew lost his temper, and when he did, it was usually about some sort of injustice taking place- both knew that Henrik and Anneliese's Adrian was a passionate young man, exceedingly passionate about certain things, like his parents were; it was highly clear that he was deeply in love with this young Jewess, this Zara of his, for he'd married her, and they'd created a child together. And though their marriage wasn't legal in any sense of law, to both of them, it was a marriage, as binding and valid as if they'd exchanged rings and received a license._

_But right now, it sounded like that marriage- valid or not- was in jeopardy._

_"The Angel of Death?" He asked, turning from the window to face her. She sat on the bed, the blanket wrapped tight around her, as though it could protect her from every biting word that escaped his lips. He thought a moment. "Mengele. Ein Hurensohn!" He spat, wondering how in the world his family had ever been friends with such a monster. Of course he knew the Mengeles, but the stories that had come out of the camps had been nothing more than that- stories and rumors about a skilled surgeon. It hadn't been until survivors started speaking out, telling the Allies what they'd witnessed, that the stories began to ring true. _

_That he'd performed experiments on men, women, children, the elderly, the disabled..._

_He let out a scream of frustration, kicking the desk and sending the chair toppling over, before sending the few notepads, pens, journals, and inkwells flying to the floor in a fit of anger. The thick black ink moved quickly over the floorboards, a river of darkness, the color nothing more than a stark, heartbreaking reminder of who- and what- this war had taken from them. _

_Family, friends, home. _

_Any chance at a future, which to both of them meant on thing: _

_Children. _

_Zara winced, but didn't move. Beneath the blanket, her hands ghosted over her belly, her mind searching for any trace of the child that had once kicked and stretched within her womb. Tears slipped silently down her cheeks, and she inhaled softly, wishing, hoping- praying- that this was some horrible dream. And yet, she knew that it wasn't. It was a nightmare; one they would never wake from._

_"How could you not say anything?" Adrian snapped, rounding on her. She looked up, meeting his gaze as he made his way towards the bed. "You tell me about our baby dying the moment we find each other again, but you neglect to tell me that Mengele sterilized you? How could you just forget to mention something like that, Zara?" She muttered something under her breath, and he shook his head. "What?"_

_"I did not know how to tell you, Adrian!" She screamed, lifting her chin, tears coming fast down her cheeks. "I had just found you, just told you that I lost our baby, I did not know how to tell you that I would never have children again! I did not know how to bring it up! You had just returned to me from Death itself and I did not want to risk losing you again... I kept silent out of cowardice, and I am so sorry! But I did not know how to explain that the chance to have another child of yours was taken from me... I swear, I meant to spare you further pain that you had already felt..."_

_She burst into tears, and he sighed, realizing that he wasn't the only one affected by the death of his daughter. He hadn't stopped to think how Zara had felt- she had gone through the birth after all. She'd felt their baby girl come out of her body, felt her die even, held her for a few brief moments after birth, named her... _

_Yes, the baby's death had affected Zara as much, if not more, than him. And he'd forgotten that._

_A moment passed, before he knelt down, taking her hands. She pulled away, wrapping her arms around her middle and doubling over, sobs shaking her small frame. He took a deep breath, reminding himself that Zara had been the one to go through childbirth, that Zara had been the one to feel their child grow and form within her body, that Zara had been the one to feel their baby die as she was being born-_

_"Oh, Zara, my wife..." He was cautious, tender, as he reached out and gently lay a hand on her back. Only the sound of her sobs met him, but before he knew it, she'd looked up and then thrown her arms around his neck, burying her face in his shoulder. Tears slid down his cheeks as he held her, tangling his fingers in her hair. "I'm so sorry, Zara... I... I didn't..." But she shook her head, curling her fingers around his shirt._

_"I want our baby... Adrian..." Her words tore at his heart, and he sat back on the ground, settling her in his lap, pressing kisses to her hair._

_"I want her too, my love." He shifted his hold on her, pulling her closer. As she curled into his embrace, tucking her head beneath his chin, his tears dripped into her hair, the heartbreak in his voice having shattered his heart, despite the fact that it still beat within his chest. "My wife... my beautiful wife... God, all I can do is be thankful he didn't take you from me... I promise, my Zara... we'll get through this... we'll get through this..."_


	96. Chapter 96

**Rifiuto: Non Miriena**

**Thanks to Reader for reviewing 94 and 95.**

_ "A memory is lodged in the mind, but a feeling inhabits the whole body."_

_- Denis Avey (1919 - ), British POW Who Snuck into Auschwitz_

_Berlin, Germany_

_Scandic Berlin Potsdamer Platz Hotel_

_Two Hours Later_

"Oh God... oh..." She collapsed back in Tim's embrace, every part of her body screaming in pain as Mallart quickly cleaned and wrapped the second baby in a towel. She closed her eyes briefly before opening them and shaking her head, clearing away the fog of the last several hours. It was then that she found Tim looking at her, upside down as he leaned over her.

"Ziva, you do realize that you just gave birth _twice._"

She furrowed a brow, her attention caught by the bangs that stuck up... or down... or... "What?" He nodded, motioning towards Mallart, who held the second baby in her arms. She followed his gaze, even more confused. "But I-"

"Gave birth to twins." Mallart replied, voice soft. She gently laid the baby in Ziva's arms, a softness coming over her features. It had been years since she'd held a baby, and the two babies that Tim and Ziva now called their children brought back memories of her own daughter. "Fraternal. A boy and a girl."

Ziva slowly turned her gaze to the seven pound six ounce bundle now cradled in her arms. Her gaze locked on the baby's; she barely registered Tim helping her to her feet and into the bed, she only noticed the little boy in her embrace. As Tim settled beside her, Wilkins placed their little girl into her father's arms- the seven pound seven ounce newborn instantly stopped crying at the feel of her father's arms around her.

"But... how... I... we were only excepting one..." Ziva met Tim's gaze; he shrugged.

"Babies hide. And it's not uncommon for the mother to _not_ look like she's carrying multiples- my mother was a twin, and my grandmother never suspected she was carrying two because she didn't look very big. She looked about like you by the time she gave birth." Mallart perched on the edge of the bed. "It's also common for a woman to have twins if they run in either her or the father's family-"

Tim shook his head, but Ziva blushed, suddenly realizing. "My mother was a twin."

Mallart furrowed a brow. "Shirah?"

Ziva nodded.

"But you said she was older-"

"Older by ten minutes. _Ima_ was born ten minutes later, a complete surprise. They were identical, but _Ima_ always said Shirah might as well have been older by ten years." She swallowed. "_Ima_ never treated Shirah like she was her twin, she treated her like she was her older sister. That much I remember." She gently brushed her fingers over her son's head, being careful of the soft spot at the top of his head. "I never thought..." Her words trailed off as she became lost in the little boy's eyes. "And she lived in Ammon- we rarely saw her when I was very little. _Ima_... they did not have a very good relationship." She stared into her son's eyes, not hearing the conversation around her.

_"I do not care, Shirah! Ziva and Tali are not your children!"_

_"No, Rivka, my children are dead, thanks to the Palestinians!" _

_"It was not the Palestinians that killed your children, Shirah! It was your own selfish pride!" _

_"It was not pride, Rivka! If you cared an ounce for your daughters, you would understand that it was not pride!" _

_"No, it was just because Mossad ordered you out on a mission, and you were stupid enough to leave your boys with the Rosenthals, instead of bringing them to me!" _

_"You would not have taken my sons anyway, Rivka!" _

_"Of course I would have, Shirah, they were my nephews! I love them! I loved them as much as though they were my own children! It is because of Mossad that you lost your boys, Shirah, not the Palestinians! Mossad put your sons in danger!" _

_"Says the woman who married the Mossad." _

_"I am sorry?" _

_"Do not play stupid, Rivka. Do not pretend that you do not understand or realize what Eli does or what he leads. You do not want your daughters within Mossad, and yet, they are surrounded by it every day! The man they call Abba is the leader of Mossad! He-"_

_"Shut up! Tistom et a-pe! Eli is a good man, a good father! And you... you... have nothing! You have never had anything! You have never deserved anything or anyone! You deserved to have your boys taken from you! But you are not taking my girls from me! I will die before I let you take my daughters!" _

_"And you deserved everything, Rivka? Do you _honestly_ believe that you truly deserve everything? Just because you escaped becoming an assassin for Mossad does not mean you escaped it entirely. You married it, Rivka, because you married the very man that runs it. So do not pride yourself too much. Because you will lose everything one day, just as I have. You married the agency after all. You are not an assassin, but you are too embroiled in it to escape. We both know that." _

_"You are lying." _

_"I may have married the agency by becoming a killer, but you married the entire_ business _when you married Eli David._ _You are just as tangled in the art of killing as I am, and don't you dare deny it. Murder is not just a David business, it-"_

"_'- it is also a Jäger business.'_"

Tim furrowed a brow, tearing his gaze away from his daughter. "Did you say something, Ziva?"

She blinked, the memory fading into the background as her son took the place of her aunt and mother. She looked up, meeting Tim's eyes. A moment passed, before she quickly unbuttoned her pajama top and pushed it aside. "I read that... it is a good idea to feed immediately after birth..." She glanced at Mallart as she gently guided her son's tiny mouth towards her breast. "Am I doing it right?"

"You're doing fine, Ziva." Mallart whispered, tears filling her eyes. A moment passed, before she quickly got up, swiping at her eyes. "I... I'll be... excuse... I just... I need some air..." She rushed from the room, shutting the door softly behind her; a quick glance and soft 'excuse me', and Wilkins followed, leaving the new parents alone. Silence filled the room, with only the soft sounds of their son nursing to break the quiet.

Taking a deep breath, Ziva tore her gaze from the baby at her breast, and in a matter of seconds, both spoke, linked on the same train of thought,

_"We need to talk-" _

Their gazes locked as tension quickly filled the room.


	97. Chapter 97

**Rifiuto: Non Miriena**

**A/N: Merry Christmas, Happy Hanukkah, Happy Kwanzaa and a very Happy Holidays to all of you. Z and I are catching a late-night flight to Ashland- we'll still be posting, but it might take a day or two, so we'll post when we can. *stops typing as she taps shoulder* Z wants me to tell you that she loves you all, and hopes you have a wonderful holiday, no matter what you celebrate. *turns to her* Happy? *catches her waist as she leans down and steals a soft kiss* **

_"The only reason for this treatment was that they were Jews."_

_- Muriel Knox Doherty (1896 - 1988), Australian Nurse who Helped Take Care of Survivors at Bergen-Belsen after Liberation_

Berlin, Germany

1892 Leipziger Straße

1 January, 1946

New Years' Day

_Adrian awoke to a stillness; it was silent. He glanced down at the woman asleep beside him; they'd spent the hours after closing the door to their room making love, burying themselves in each others' flesh, reclaiming themselves and what they'd lost, finding again what had kept them both alive in the camps. He'd reached for her, screaming her name, and, as she'd done before, she'd reached up, covering his face with her hands. After several minutes, she'd moved her hands down his face, caressing his cheeks before she'd pulled him down to her. Their lips had met, and they'd soon fallen asleep, their bodies nestled together._

_A moment passed before he slowly got up, pressing a kiss to her head before he got dressed and slipped out of the room. The house was silent, the sky not yet colored blue. As he made his way down the stairs and headed for the front door, he turned back. Zara would kill him for leaving her alone, but he needed air; he needed to think-_

_Silent, he slipped out of the house, pulling the door shut behind him._

_He made his way through the streets of Berlin, seeing the destruction left by the Allied bombs- homes and shops reduced to rubble, fellow Germans living on the streets, scrounging for food and belongings trapped within the destruction of their homes. Though the war had ended four months ago, it still felt as though they were trapped within the war- rations were still being used, Nazis were still killing, Germans and Jews were still living in alike in fear._

_And many of the survivors of the camps- survivors of the Holocaust- as the Jews were now calling it, for the 'sacrificing' of Jews by Germans, many through fire- were trying to pick up the pieces of their shattered lives. There were many that were fleeing to Palestine- however, it was quickly becoming clear that the Palestinie government would take no more refugees. They were quickly closing the doors to the DPs that had survived the Holocaust- the thousands and thousands of Displaced Persons left without home or country- leaving those still without refuge to seek out a new place to live, to make their homes and rebuild their lives._

_While England, Canada and America were slowly taking in refugees, neither Zara nor Adrian were willing to travel all the way. And any chance of her returning to Poland was gone; perhaps the most hostile area in the world, it had willingly destroyed her family, and any relatives that may have survived did not need her to put an even bigger strain on their minor resources. No, it was best she stay in Berlin._

_There was no way Zara would be willing to leave him anyway, not when they'd both survived Death and found each other again._

_And while his aunt and uncle were willing to have them for as long as they wished to stay, Adrian knew that Zara was getting restless. He felt it too. She wanted a house- a home of her own, one that belonged to her and only her; one she didn't have to share with anyone but him if she wished. She wanted a kitchen she could cook in without having to ask for a permission that was not needed; she wanted a garden, that she could grow flowers in, vegetables in; she wanted a bedroom that belonged to her, and a room to have a nursery for a child she would never conceive. And he knew, that perhaps the one thing she wanted more than a home, was a grave._

_She wanted a grave for their daughter, a place she could go, something she could touch, that was solid evidence of the child she'd born and lost during the darkest period in human history. She wanted to be able to lay flowers and read a name, to care and tend to a simple stone that bore her child's name and dates- something tangible that didn't just exist in memory._

_And while she would never get a stone for their baby, she hoped, for now, that she would one day have a home._

_Adrian sighed; that was all he wanted for her- a home, and her identity._

_For in the eyes of the German government, she was still just a number, a contamination, corrupting the human race. There were many of his people that refused to acknowledge that they'd done anything wrong, that they'd nearly destroyed their neighbors, their friends. Yes, there were many within Germany that still saw the Jews as a plague in need of decimating. _

_But Führer Hitler was dead; the Nazi party had been ripped apart, and many of the high ranking officials within Hitler's inner circle had fled to places unknown. Berlin was slowly working on putting itself back together; Germans and Jews were slowly returning to decency, and survivors were being reunited, if not being forced to move on from the deaths of loved ones. And slowly, very slowly, Germany was being split in two, as partial punishment for the crimes it had committed. There was a talk of a wall possibly being built around Berlin, yet the Soviets were opposed to the idea. _

_Adrian sighed, he had no way of knowing that the hell they had endured in the camps would be nothing compared to the hell they would face in almost fifteen years' time._

_And that the struggle to escape Berlin would put their quest to survive the Nazis to shame._

_Eventually, he stopped, to find himself in front of the house he'd grown up in; out of reflex, his feet had led him home. Taking a deep breath, he made his way up the steps and into the foyer. The house hadn't been touched since that long ago day, when his parents had been dragged out in handcuffs by Gestapo officers, and he'd been forced to take the girls and flee. They had haunted his nights and his days- turning dreams into nightmares and keeping him up when he should have been buried within Zara's soft flesh, her heartbeat in his ear._

_As the door swung shut softly behind him, he took a deep breath, closing his eyes. He could smell his mother's perfume, hear Cora's laughter, and feel his father's arms around him; their voices assaulted him, attacked him, raping his memory and tearing apart the small scrap of peace he'd tried so desperately to find after the war ended. They flooded his mind and senses- his mother's lullabies, his father's gentle gaze, his sister's dazzling smile. He could hear Cora's footsteps on the stairs, rushing down to greet him as she often did when he returned from school on break. He could smell the ink on his father's hands from when he returned late in the night from making pamphlets in the basement of the courthouse. He could feel his mother's hands on his face as she caressed his face, often after a serious conversation-_

_And in the very back of his mind, he could taste Zara- that kiss on the stairs, when he'd thrown rules out the door and in nothing but silence told his parents exactly how he felt about the girl they were hiding._

_Tears slid down his cheeks, and after a moment, he crumpled to the floor, wrapping his arms around himself. "What do you want from me? I have done everything I can think of... what more can I possibly do? I can't give Zara back our daughter, I can't bring you back from the dead... I can't do anything anymore... I can't even give Zara a proper home, a proper identity... she has no home to return to, no family to find, and I have nothing left but empty promises and guilt-ridden memories. I can't give her what she needs... thanks to Mengele, she will never be a mother again... we have nothing left! The Nazis took everything from us!"_

_He slowly lifted his head; Cora stood over him, watching him. She was vibrant and healthy as she'd been when she was alive- but soon, blood began to pool over her dress, dripping onto the floor and turning her ashen. Before he knew it, his parents stood on either side of her, watching him, silent. A bullet hole seeped blood from Anneliese's forehead, and the back of his father's head was missing and bloody, a similar bullet hole within the center of his own forehead. They watched him, silent, giving him time to catch his breath. He shook his head._

_"I have nothing left to give her. I tried... I gave her all I possibly could... and it cost both our families and our daughter..." He broke down, the pain he'd hidden from her for months finally taking its toll. "We had a baby! We had a little girl! And she was born and she died in the camps! She never even took her first breath! She was born of blood and pain and the crematorium was her grave! I never got to meet her! They separated us and..." He stopped, choking on the words. With a shake of his head, he met Cora's eyes. _

_"You had a niece... and I felt her move and watched her grow... but just like you, I never got to meet her. I never got to meet my daughter..." He glanced at his parents. "I know, okay? I know I screwed up, I know I should never have gotten involved with Zara... but... I love her... and I wish to God I didn't... I wish I'd grabbed my bike and walked away that night... I wish I'd never heard of the White Rose or met Hans and Sophie... I wish I'd turned my back on the Jews... they were just a people... and while I know they didn't deserve this... I wish they had... it would have made it easier, had they deserved this destruction for the crimes the_ _Führer accused them of..." He choked on a sob. "It would have made it easier. It would have made it easier..." _

_His mother cocked her head, brow furrowing. As he fully broke down, he felt their arms around him; their lips on his skin, and he heard Cora's voice, a soft, wispy breath in his ear and he knew, even though his mind fought it, that she was right._

_"Never turn your back on family, Adrian. Zara was always family."_


	98. Chapter 98

**Rifiuto: Non Miriena**

_"I hope to God that the inner strength that will vindicate my deeds will in good time spring forth from my own people. I have done as I had to on the prompting of my inner voice."_

_- Kurt Huber (1893 - 1943), Professor of Philosophy and Musicology at Munich University who was a Key Member of the White Rose_

_Berlin, Germany_

_Scandic Berlin Potsdamer Platz Hotel_

"What do you need to talk about, Tim?" Ziva asked; she gently removed their son's mouth from her breast, holding the baby out to his father and accepting their daughter. As she settled the little girl at her other breast, she watched Tim with their son. He sighed, his gaze becoming lost in the little boy they'd created. Neither of them were small- which surprised both him and Ziva.

"I just... ever since the accident, I've been..." He met her gaze; she was exhausted, having just pushed two tiny, dependent human beings out of her body, and after a moment, he shook his head, deciding it could wait. "Nothing. Not important right now. And... you? What did you need to talk about?"

She bit her lip, glancing down at the little girl at her breast. The baby- like her brother- nursed hungrily, staring up at her with wide blue eyes. Her heart tugged, and she felt herself wavering. She'd been set on informing Tim that she was going to take their daughter back to Israel and raise her within Mossad, as a child she'd adopted-

But now, that plan was askew. When it was just one child, the decision had been clear, but now that there were two...

Now, there were two innocent, dependent little infants that needed them both; Ziva couldn't raise them on their own, not this early in their lives. When they got older, yes, but now, hours after both had been born?

She gently trailed a finger down her daughter's cheek; the baby's gaze flitted to the side, following her mother's finger, before returning to studying her face as she continued to drink greedily at Ziva's breast. She sighed, her mind going back to her mother; Rivka had made a point to make sure that both she and Tali understood that in this family, twins were a blessing.

_"Twins are just Adonai's way of giving you back your souls. One baby may not be able to hold all of their parents' souls within them, so Adonai creates two children- they hold your soul and the soul of the man you love within them, my loves. Still two souls within one body, just split twice. Remember that my girls. Twins in our family are a blessing."_

Tears came to her eyes, and she took a shaky breath. She had been given twins- that blessing her family regarded, that very same blessing that had ripped her mother and aunt apart. She looked up, to see Tim gazing down at their son. And then, their gazes locked, and she took a deep breath. "I... I was... I was going to take our daughter... back to Is... Israel... but now..." She glanced at the little boy in his arms. "Now, I do not know what to do."

Tim nodded; he didn't say a word, but the look in his eyes told her that what he was going to say was along those same lines.

"We have two children now." He whispered, gaze going back to the baby that had come into the world and their lives as a complete surprise. He shook his head, slowly pulling his gaze from his son. "We have to stay together. We have no choice. We never had a choice."

Ziva nodded, silent. He was right; they'd had no choice. Their choice had come and gone- she'd been given the choice to abort her pregnancy, and out of stubbornness and pride, she'd refused. He'd been given the choice to walk away long ago, and like a fool, out of some misbegotten sense of honor instilled by his father, he'd stayed. Their choices were no longer their own; their lives no longer theirs.

Their lives now belonged to the two small humans cradled in their arms- humans that would learn to walk, and crawl and speak and run. Two small, innocent lives that would come running to them for kisses when they got hurt, that would ask them for ice cream and dance lessons, that would call them 'Mommy' and 'Daddy' and ask where babies came from when they were old enough to understand curiosity.

Out of wild passion and stupidity, they'd created two tiny people- dependent on them for everything, from warmth to food to love. They had created two lives that neither of them deserved when they got right down to it, but that they were now given. They had made perhaps the biggest mistake of their lives, and were now being forced to face it, in the form of two innocent bundle of joy.

"Twins are a blessing." He looked up at Ziva's voice; tears slid down her cheeks, as she stared at their daughter, her finger tracing her daughter's cheek as the baby nursed. She shook her head, meeting his gaze. "In my family... twins are a blessing..." She took a shaky breath. "I do not know what to do, Tim. What do we do? We cannot split them up... especially when they are so tiny... we have to keep them together... but that means..." She choked on a sob as he took a seat beside her. "That means we have to stay together, and I know that is the last thing you desire... you never wished to be tied down... it is my fault... I never should... I should have gotten an abortion when you asked... I am so sorry..." He reached out, taking her chin his hand.

"Ziva, look at me. We'll figure it out. Okay? We'll work through this, and figure out some way to..." He stopped as her words finally sank in. He was silent for several minutes, before, "We will-"

But then his phone rang, and he jumped. Quickly, he checked the number, surprised to realize that two hours had passed. Silently, Ziva shifted the little girl onto her other breast and reached out for their son. "Gibbs?" He nodded. "Go." He met her gaze. "Go. You need to tell him." He nodded, distracted, before laying the little boy in her embrace. Before he climbed off the bed, he pressed a soft kiss to her mouth, and then got up, slipping out of the room.

"Hey Boss-"

Once he was gone, Ziva looked down at her children, both nursing contentedly at her breasts. She swallowed. How could they possibly take care of two children? They were hardly prepared to take care of one child, let alone two. But then her thoughts shifted; they were beautiful, both of them were. She could see little pieces of herself and Tim in each, and fresh tears came to her eyes- tears that meant something entirely different now. She bit her lip; they needed names.

But what did you name two of the most beautiful babies you'd ever laid eyes on?

A moment passed, before she thought back to what had started this, what had brought them to Berlin in the first place.

A mystery they had yet to fully solve, centered around two people history had erased, that the world had forgotten in the chaos of the Second War.

She glanced down at her children, her babies, just born, and nursing contentedly at her breasts. Rivka had taught them that a name was the most important thing in the world; in the end, it would be all they had left. But for one couple, their names- their very identities- had been stripped from them, never to be returned. Simply because of who they were and who they'd chosen to fall in love with.

How very _Romeo and Juliet_.

Her gaze flitted quickly to the bedroom door, before returning to the babies she cradled. They were her children, and they needed strong names, were they to survive in such a world as they had been brought into now.

Strong names. Strong, beautiful names.

What better names than the ones given to a couple who had struggled to survive during one of the greatest conflicts of the twentieth century? When neighbors turned against each other, and simply looking Jewish was a crime? When sacrifices had been given and families ripped apart? When the memories of millions of people still smoldered in the ruins of camps long since closed? Yes, what better names than those of the very couple they were searching for?

She swallowed, glancing at her son and then her daughter. "What do you think? Hmm, Adrian? Zara? The people who bore those names before you are heroes, no matter if history remembers them or not. Your _Abba_ and I remember them. And that is what is important." She leaned down, pressing a kiss to each child's head. "Ken, that is what is important."


	99. Chapter 99

**Rifiuto: Non Miriena**

**A/N: This jumps ahead for a reason... and there's a reason why I moved the building of the Berlin Wall down... well, ten years time. For the sake of the _story_, the building of the wall was in the late '40s, not the early '60s, as it was originally. And I've cleared it with Z, although she didn't particularly care, to be honest. She just kind of stared at me and shrugged. **

**A/N: Hey guys. We just got into Ashland and are settled at the small B&B we found, but I can't sleep. Z's curled up beside me, out like a light. Anyway, here's the next chapter- and yes, before you ask, the mentions of a wall in chapter 97 were my idea. Z's pretty much given up the writing at the moment, but it's understandable. She did eight performances of _The Nutcracker_, and she's exhausted. Throw in what we've been dealing with, and I don't blame her. But she'll get back into it eventually, trust me. There's no way I'm letting her stop writing. Because if she does, I've made it very clear that I'll kill her.- Ev**

_"I had no feelings... It just became another job. In the evening we never discussed our work, but just drank and played cards."_

_- Gustav Wagner (1911 - 1980), SS-Oberscharführer of the Sobibór extermination camp, known as 'The Wolf'_

Berlin, Germany

1892 Leipziger Straße

14 May, 1948

_"They've created a new state." _

_Silence filled the kitchen, and Adrian looked up from the article he was reading to find the other occupants staring at him. He met Zara's gaze; she still held the toast in her hand, the knife frozen mid-spread. Both his aunt and uncle were watching him as though he'd grown a second head, coffee cups still in hand. A moment passed, before she bit her lip, setting the bread and knife down. Zara took a deep breath, folding her hands in her lap and straightening her back; Adrian suppressed the urge to roll his eyes._

_They had spent nearly three years with his aunt and uncle, trying to build their lives back up from the rubble of what had been. In that time, he'd managed to find work at a bookstore working as a clerk, and, in the early evenings, he helped to print newspapers, while Zara had finally been able to get a job as a seamstress at a local shop. They'd slowly been putting money away- to pay off debts, to pay back his aunt and uncle, who insisted no payment was needed, just love, and to save back in the hopes that they would one day have a house of their own._

_In that time, their health had fluctuated drastically- there was a period where Zara got exceedingly sick, and Adrian feared he'd lose her- but eventually, both had recovered, and now they, like hundreds of other refugees and survivors of the camps, resembled normal human beings again. Zara had cut her hair, keeping it at just below shoulder length, and though Adrian missed being able to wrap his hands in that silky dark hair, he didn't blame her. And in a way, it was beautiful, the way it framed her face and danced on her shoulders; still, it was long enough to be pulled back, and thick enough that it would curtain her face if kept down. But what he loved most- and had missed most- was her body, and those beautiful curves she'd possessed before the camp._

_She had slowly, over time, gained back her figure, and now, three years later, her body was once again soft curves and silky edges. Now, he could wrap his arms around her waist and not feel the jutting of her hip bones; he could take her arm and not fear the bone would snap under his grasp. Yes, she was better, healthier, as was he. And on the nights they made love, he often buried his face in her flesh, breathing in the sweet scent of her skin._

_And while they'd been forced to grow up even faster in the years since the war ended, there were times when it seemed that Zara had grown up almost too much. There were times when she acted almost too much like an adult, when it would better have suited her to act like a teenager- and those times when Adrian acted too adult, Zara acted too childish. They'd since learned to work around the very real fact that children would never again be possible, and were slowly accepting that their little Ziva was the only child they would ever have. Neither mentioned the possibility of adoption, neither dared to hope._

_He met her gaze; she cocked her head, the dark curls he loved so much pinned up and out of the way, leaving her face exposed. They very much, like many of their generation who'd grown up before and during the war years, took their cues from movies and magazines. It was the younger generation, those in their twenties, such as them, who followed what the actors wore- American actors, British actors, even the British royal family, were their fashion icons now, not the Germans that Hitler had forced upon his people. And Adrian found he quite liked the sight of his wife in the pencil skirts and fitted jackets that were common nowadays._

_"What?" He quickly closed the paper that lay on the table and pushed it away before sitting back and folding his arms. "Don't look at me like that. You know I hate it when you look at me in that tone of voice."_

_She raised an eyebrow, resting her folded hands on the table. The bareness of her hand didn't go unnoticed to Adrian. Though the war was over, wedding rings weren't possible, nor was a marriage license- for no judge was willing to give a German and a Jewess a license of marriage; Antisemitism still held a firm grip upon those in the courts that had done Hitler's command. And even though only a select few knew of their marriage, it still stung whenever they had to explain the circumstances. It was the one thing Adrian longed to give Zara someday- as silly as it seemed. _

_A house to call her own, and a ring to slide on her finger. A license that spoke legally of their marriage. _

_That was all he wished for her; well, and the one thing they could never again create. _

_A child. _

_"And what, exactly, are you suggesting, my husband?" Her voice tugged him out of his thoughts, and his gaze slid to her face. His aunt and uncle shared a glance, before getting up from the table. "That we move there?" Adrian watched his aunt and uncle excuse themselves, shutting the kitchen door softly behind them; once they were gone, he returned his gaze to Zara. He thought a moment, opening his mouth to speak-_

_"Actually, my wife," He mirrored her pose, folding his hands on the table. His gaze flitted towards the coffee cup by his hand, knowing that the next thing he said could very well get him killed. When it came to any talk of moving away from Germany, from Poland, from the last place her sister- her family- had lived before their deaths, Zara could take anything and everything wrong. He knew it was more of a misguided desire to discover what had happened to her baby sister that kept her so close to Poland- not to mention their lack of finances- and he also knew that any mention of leaving that stone un-turned had the potential to castrate him and send him sleeping- not even on the sofa- but the front steps. _

_He took his chances anyway. He met her gaze, giving her his most charming smile. "That's exactly what I was thinking." _

_Poor bastard should have kept his mouth shut; the broken coffee cup missed his genitalia by inches, but the hot coffee didn't. _


	100. Chapter 100

**Rifiuto: Non Miriena**

**A/N: Here's the 100th chapter. Hope you all like long stories, cause this one still has a ways to go.- Ev**

_"What a curious power words have."_

_- Tadeusz Borowski (1922 - 1951)_

_Berlin, Germany_

_Scandic Berlin Potsdamer Platz Hotel _

_Three Hours Later_

Tim slipped back into the bedroom; having finally hung up the phone with Gibbs. Three hours had since passed, and he'd spent that time explaining what they'd found, and how Ziva had gone into labor, resulting in- surprise!- twins; his boss had at first snapped at him, and then fallen into the disappointing silence that was common on Team Gibbs. He'd then been forced to hand the phone over the Mallart, who looked as though she'd been crying, and she'd explained the whole situation...

Now though, Tim perched gently on the edge of the bed. Ziva cradled both in her arms; Wilkins had come to check on her, meeting the twins after they'd finished nursing, before slipping out of the room a few minutes before Tim entered, when both once more began to cry, indicating another feeding. She met his gaze, tears in her eyes. "Hey, what's wrong?"

She shook her head. "Nothing. Just... trying to figure out how we're going to raise them... Adrian and Zara... they need us both right now..."

"Adrian and... Zara?" Tim asked softly, raising an eyebrow. She blushed, nodding.

"They were all I could think of. And when you look at it, Tim, those two are the reason we're in Berlin, the reason why our babies are here... if we weren't trying to find them, then... then our children wouldn't exist. And they... they are good, strong names, Tim, and... if our children are going to survive, then they need-"

She was cut off by his mouth on hers. The kiss was soft, gentle, and yet seemed to express all the fears and worry he'd carried on his shoulders from the beginning of this op. As he slowly pulled away, he met Ziva's gaze. "They are beautiful names, Ziva. Perfect names. Congratulations." She furrowed a brow, confused.

"Tim, what are you not saying?"

He sighed, pulling away. "I was... going to give you full custody of her, but... there are two now..." He shrugged. "I.. I understand, that I will never be a good father. The Admiral has made sure to constantly remind me of the fact that I am not fit to even work in government..." He closed his eyes briefly, swallowing the lump in his throat. "And he's right. I am not fit to be an agent, so why should I even be fit to be a father?" He met her gaze. "I'm sorry, Ziva-"

"Here." She reached up, gently removing her daughter's mouth from her breast, holding her out to Tim. "Take your daughter, please." He took the baby willingly, gently rubbing her back and then cradling her in his arms as Ziva gently removed their son from her other breast and did the same. Though they were only a few hours old, they had already captured their parents' hearts, thereby forcing them to take a good, long look at their choices and make the right ones.

"Hello... hey there, little one. You're beautiful, you know that? Just like Mommy." Ziva felt her heart swell at Tim's soft words, at the way he looked at their daughter, at the way he talked to her-

How could he possibly think he'd be a horrible father? Their babies were only a few hours old, and he was already doing an amazing job. She took a deep breath. "I... I think..." He looked up, tearing his gaze away from the baby cradled in his arms.

"What is it, Ziva?" He whispered, locking eyes with her. She sniffled, taking a deep breath as she shifted her hold on their son.

"I think that... that we should... stay together. For... for the sake of our babies... they need us... and... honestly, I... I need you, too."

She bit her lip, watching with cautious eyes as he glanced at the little girl in his arms. Gently, he brushed his finger over her tiny hand; her small fingers wrapped around his index finger, and he gave the baby a tiny smile. A moment passed, before he whispered,

"She knows who her daddy is."

"Of course she does." Ziva replied, hearing the tears in his voice. "They both do. They know your voice, like they know mine-" The two locked gazes, and after several minutes, she whispered,

"Please, Tim, say that you need me, too. I can't raise them without you."

He swallowed, licking his lips nervously. "How do you know I'll be any good as a father? According to the Admiral, I'm not even any good at being human."

She reached out, laying a hand on his arm. "Because they have only been in this world a few short hours, and you love them with _everything_ you are. Like I do. No man could love them the way you do and _not_ be a wonderful father." He took a deep breath, glancing down at their daughter; he could see some of Ziva's features in hers, and she had a mass of dark hair, same as her brother. Tenderly, he loosened his daughter's grasp, and reached up, brushing his fingers over the soft spot at the top of her head.

Eventually, he moved to sit beside her on the bed, meeting her gaze. She waited in silence, giving him time to gather his thoughts. After several minutes, he spoke, choosing his words carefully. "I..." He bit his lip, thinking. "I do need you, Ziva." The relief she felt flitted across her face, and after a moment, she rested her head on his shoulder. "I need you more than I've ever needed anyone, and that scares the Hell out of me. Because..." He took a deep breath, forcing himself to say it.

"Take your time, Tim."

He met her gaze, his own softening as he studied her face. "Because I think I'm falling in love with you. I think... that I've... _always_ been in love with you."


	101. Chapter 101

**Rifiuto: Non Miriena**

**A/N: Really,_ really_ wanted to keep this under 100 chapters...**

**A/N: Remember, for the sake of the story, I shifted some things around and brought in a major event that normally wouldn't take place until later... there's a reason why this skips to August '48...**

_"It is a mistake to use intense words without carefully weighing and measuring them, or they will have already been used when one needs them later."_

_- Guy Sajer (1926 -)_

Berlin, Germany

1892 Leipziger Straße

12 August, 1948

8:00 P.M.

_He buried himself deep within her; since the liberation of the camps, and the truth about what Mengele had done to her, the couple didn't worry about pregnancy- any chance of a child resulting from their nights of passion were gone, thanks to one doctor's hatred of the Jewish race. But that didn't mean that Adrian and Zara ignored their needs; they were still human after all, still a couple, still husband and wife- even if the law wouldn't recognize their marriage- and they still had carnal desires that needed to be met, and they let their desires and passions take over willingly, giving in to the fire that had always burned between them._

_She slid her hands down his chest, tightening her hold on his hips with her knees, tilting her head back to allow his mouth to find the soft pulse beating beneath the skin of her neck. As his mouth trailed hot kisses down her chilled skin, her dark eyes snapped open, and she groaned, pushing him away. She gently pushed him off of her, moving away and sprawling out on her stomach, one hand reaching down to search for the book she'd knocked off the nightstand._

_"Not tonight, Adrian." She finally found her book, grabbing it and settling down to read, opening it to the page she'd been on. "Neither of us are in the mood for it. And do not deny it. You say you are, but your heart was not in it, from the moment our bedroom door shut to the moment you entered me. There are other things circling in your head, just as there are other things circling in mine, and not one of them pertain to the sexual act of love or the pleasure of arousal, so you might as well just give it up. It is not happening tonight, no matter how badly you say you want it. And I am not going to lie there, allow you to make a map of bruises on my skin and pretend I am enjoying myself when we both know nothing is going to come of it."_

_This time, Adrian didn't bother suppressing the movement as his eyes went skyward and back down to the blankets of their bed. He loved Zara, he really did, but the woman was bright- too bright for her own good at times- and it drove him nuts. And when they weren't spending time together- and when neither were at work- she often spent her time with her nose buried in a book, drinking in as much of the written word as she could. He'd helped her brush up on her German so that she wasn't as rusty, and she'd made a point of teaching his Polish-_

_But it was times like this, when she brought a book to bed that annoyed him to no end. He understood that she liked to read, he liked books as much as she did, but this crossed a line. He wasn't sure what line, but he knew it crossed a line. She had been the one, after all, to establish that the bedroom was a book-free zone, after she'd come to bed one night wanting intercourse, and had found him too wrapped up in Fitzgerald to care that she was desperate for his touch. She'd taken the book and thrown it out the window that night in a huff, too upset that he was wrapped up in Gatsby and Daisy's love affair. She'd withheld sex that night, refusing his kiss when she turned out the lights- not that Adrian had particularly cared, but now that the offer had been taken off the table- _

_Well, he'd cared a great deal, and had apologized that morning as they both got ready for work. Zara, always unable to stay angry at him, had accepted his apology; they'd both narrowly missed getting out of the house and to their respective jobs on time. _

_So, in all technicality, she was breaking her own rule. _

_Now though, he sighed, sliding a hand down her exposed back, trailing along the sheet that wrapped around her waist before he moved to gently caress her buttocks- _

_"Do not even think it, husband." She warned, turning another page in her book. "We are not animals, we are humans." Another page turned. "We do not engage the way animals do. That is your rule, remember?" He groaned, once more rolling his eyes._

_"Dumbest rule I ever thought up. Zara, you were right." He muttered; his wife turned another page in her book, ignoring him. A moment passed, as he glanced towards the alarm clock on the nightstand. It was still early. He weighed his options; he could leave her be and get some sleep, but that idea appealed not at all to him, he could break his own rule, but Zara would kill him, or- and this one he highly considered- he could have a little fun with her that didn't involve sex. Without a word, he slid his hands up her back, gently working the knots from her spine and shoulders. She 'hmmed' in contentment, relaxing into his touch. Soon, she was nothing but jelly beneath his hands-_

_He tackled her, wrapping his arms around her waist as he landed on top of her with an oof! The bed bounced, and she struggled to maintain hold of her book. "Adrian!" She pushed herself up, turning her head to meet his gaze. He grinned._

_"Yes, wife?" His voice dripped with innocence, even as he snatched her book away and closed it, dropping it on the floor and pushing it under the bed._

_"Hey!" She pulled herself up from trying to rescue it from the depths of the darkness beneath the bed, glaring at him. His grin widened. She pushed him off her, and he willingly shifted onto his side, propping his head on his elbow. Her dark eyes studied him, cautious of that charming smile._

_"Penny for your thoughts, my Zara?" He asked, reaching over and thumbing her bottom lip gently. But before she could speak, he leaned over, capturing her lips in a soft kiss._

_"You are feisty tonight, husband." She whispered, her eyes opening as he pulled away. "What has gotten into you? Hmm?" She reached out, brushing a hand down his face. He caught her wrist, pressing soft kisses to each finger, making sure to pay extra attention to her ring finger. He met her gaze, his voice soft._

_"Just you, my wife." She raised an eyebrow, pulling her hand away._

_"Now that is not possible. You can get into me as you have done countless times over the last three years, yet there is no way I can get into you-"_

_He groaned, closing his eyes and collapsing onto his back, blushing. He loved it when she talked this way- she was no longer the proper young Jewess his family had hidden during the war, but a fully-grown woman with the same desires and needs he possessed, and she was just as capable of expressing them as he was- though he preferred it when they were alone, like tonight, as opposed to when his aunt and uncle were in the room, as she was often prone to do when the mood struck her. "Zara!"_

_Her giggle and a familiar weight on his chest caused him to open his eyes; she was straddling him, the sheets forgotten, her hair down around her shoulders in a tangled mess, just barely bothering to hide the soft, supple flesh of her breasts and the sensitive, hardened nipples. He ran his hands up her curves, gently brushing his thumbs over the hardened buds, eliciting a soft hiss from his wife. He grinned, loving how she reacted to his slightest touch- if there was one good thing the camps had done, it was that they'd become more aware of each other, more aware of how precious life was, and how very little time they actually had on earth, for it could be gone in an instant._

_She met his gaze, worry in her dark eyes. Then, slowly, she moved until she lay on his chest, relaxing. "Talk to me, my Adrian. What is wrong?" He shook his head, drawing patterns on her back._

_"Nothing, Zara." She reached down, pinching his arm. "Ow!"_

_"You are lying. I know you, Adrian. I married you; I bore your child. I know when you are lying. And you, Adrian," She lifted her head, meeting his gaze. "My love, my husband, you are not a good liar."_

_He sighed. "I just... there is talk... of a wall... being built around the city... at work, they are saying it is only a matter of time... and that it will be built to keep others out and us in."_

_"Is that why you want to go to Israel?" He met her gaze, nodding. She bit her lip. "And... how will we get there? What will we take? How will we buy a house, where will we live? Will they even allow us in?"_

_"They are taking in refugees from the war, from the Shoah." He whispered. "They would take us, were we to show them the numbers on our arms." She took a deep breath._

_"And all they will see is a row of numbers. They will not see a person, they will not see you or me." She shook her head, firm. "No. I am not a row of numbers, I am a person."_

_He sighed, throwing an arm over his eyes. "Zara, please! If they are going to build a wall that no one can get around, then we have to leave, and we have to leave soon!"_

_"With what, Adrian?" She snapped. "They will not build a wall! That is... preposterous!" He pushed her off him and sat up, moving to get up. "Adrian! What are you doing?"_

_He quickly got dressed, grabbing his coat. "Going for a walk."_

_"It is nearly nine in the evening! You cannot be serious!" He turned back to her; she didn't bother covering up either her body or the shock in her eyes._

_"Well sleep is not possible, neither is decent conversation, and neither one of us are in the mood for sex, so I am going to go clear my head." He pulled his coat on, quickly buttoning it before slipping into his shoes. He told himself to go to her, to return to the bed and take her in his arms, to kiss her and tell her he loved her, that she had nothing to worry about..._

_Instead, he took a deep breath and stuck his hands in his pockets. "Adrian, come back to bed. Please."_

_"Get some sleep, Zara. I won't be long. I promise." And then he slipped out of the room, shutting the door behind him before heading down the stairs towards the foyer. She watched him go, finally pulling the sheets about her, trying to ignore the gnawing fear in the pit of her stomach._


	102. Chapter 102

**Rifiuto: Non Miriena**

**A/N: Remember, in the story, liberation of Auschwitz takes place in September for obvious reasons...**

**Thanks to Reader for reviewing 100 and 101.**

_"Never postpone until tomorrow what you can postpone until the day after."_

_- Raoul Wallenberg (1912 - 1947?)_

_Berlin, Germany_

_National Archives_

_Two Weeks Later_

Tim took a deep breath, shutting the last book he'd pulled off the shelves of the archives. In the two weeks since the twins' birth, neither he nor Ziva had gotten much sleep; Mallart had offered to allow them to stay at her place as opposed to the hotel, even though the hotel staff hadn't batted an eye when they'd been informed of the impromptu births that had taken place there- which made Ziva even more suspicious that such things happened at the hotel all the time. So they were staying with Mallart at her place, which was a welcome relief for both; when she wasn't at work, she was home, helping them with the twins, and had even- slowly- opened up about her daughter and husband. Maybe that was why she'd taken such an interest in Ziva and the babies-

It helped to ease some of the guilt she felt at surviving the crash that had taken her family from her.

And frankly, Tim was grateful for Mallart's help.

He sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. He'd spent four hours in the archives, searching for any information on what happened to Zara and Adrian after the war- the bike had been authenticated; it was indeed from the war era, and the damage done to it indicated some sort of traumatic event- but they were no closer to finding the couple. Zara's diary ended in July, two months before the camp was liberated in September. There was no record of the baby Zara spoke of, no record of Adrian having ever been at Auschwitz, no record of Zara having survived, though they were certain she had.

For the simple fact that both Jackson Gibbs and LJ Moore- Gibbs's father and namesake, respectfully- confirmed that she was alive. They'd seen her; LJ had been the one to find her. He'd told Tim of how he'd found her hiding under one of the bunks when they liberated the camp, and after gaining her trust, had carried her out of the camp to the truck waiting to take them back to 'civilization' as the survivors called it. He also spoke of how, when asked for her name so that her relatives could find her, she'd given the name _'Fromm_' as opposed to _'Hirsch._'

And yet, there was no mention of either a _'Zara Hirsch'_ or a _'Zara Fromm'_ within the archives; any birth certificates had been destroyed when the Nazis took control, and though he looked, he found no marriage license for the couple, which sent up immediate red flags. Even a self-uniting marriage would have a license, for benefits, healthcare, insurance...

But there was nothing.

It was like Zara had been wiped off the face of the earth.

And when Ziva had contacted a friend who tended the Yad Vashem in Israel, asking for information on Zara and Adrian, he too had found nothing.

Tim quickly flipped to a blank page in his notebook, grabbing his pen. After a moment, he jotted down what they'd discovered since the twins' births:

Zara had survived the Holocaust, there was testimony of her survival. From what they could figure, Adrian too had survived. Both their families had perished, and they had conceived and lost a child, a daughter Zara had named Ziva, another innocent victim of the Holocaust. There was no marriage license for the couple, no record of them- or at least, Zara- having existed after the war. He and Mallart had found a citizens' identification card for Adrian, dated early nineteen-forty-six. They had also found an address, a townhouse he'd been living at after the war.

That was the next place he was going to look.

Leaving the archives, he quickly called Ziva and Mallart, telling them that he was going to track down the address on the ID card; Ziva had instantly begged to come. Tim understood, he did, but she was exhausted, and the twins needed her. However, he promised that he'd record everything and tell her about it when he returned.

So it was an hour later that he found himself standing in front of eighteen-ninety-two _Leipziger Straße _in Berlin, a modest townhouse that looked exactly like the one Conrad had left him and Ziva. Taking a deep breath, he quickly knocked on the door and waited. Minutes passed, and when it seemed that no one was home, he turned and headed down the steps.

"Can I help you?"

He turned back; an older woman stood in the doorway, watching him. Despite the years on her face, she was familiar, as though he'd known her his entire life. Her white hair had once been dark, yet her eyes were the same blue shade he'd known for years- and yet, he'd never seen the woman before.

_"Adrian, love. You will stay with us, both of you will. Until you can get back on your feet. My brother would never forgive me, were I to turn my back on my only nephew."_

He slowly returned to her, making his way up the steps until he stood before her. She studied him for several minutes, before she asked,

"Can I help you with something, Sir?"

Tim took a deep breath. "Um, actually, yes. I... I was looking for eighteen-ninety-two Leipziger-"

"This is eighteen-ninety-two. Is there something else you're looking for?" A moment passed before he quickly pulled out the ID card and a small photograph he'd gotten a copy of at the archives.

"Yes. I'm doing some research; I've been looking for the Fromm family. I was given to understand that Henrik Fromm's older sister, um... Gerda-"

"I am Gerda. Henrik was my brother." Tim quickly explained the situation, and after a moment, the woman invited him in for tea; she told him various stories about growing up with Henrik, and how his death had come as a shock, but that she knew he'd gone to his death having done the right thing. And somehow, someway, they'd gotten on the subject of children. "... do you have children of your own, Herr McGee?" For she'd understood the need for a cover name, but once in the house, had asked for his real name.

Tim nodded. "Actually, I do. My girlfriend," He started; though he was just accepting that he loved Ziva, he'd never truly considered her anything other than his coworker, the mother of his children, and it startled him. "Um... my girlfriend just gave birth a couple weeks ago. Twins, a boy and girl."

Gerda raised an eyebrow, sipping her tea. "Twins? Well, congratulations, Herr McGee."

"Thank you." He whispered, taking a sip of his tea.

"If you do not think me forward, may I ask their names?"

Tim took a deep breath, setting his cup down. "Well, our son's name is Adrian and our daughter's name is Zara."

The woman froze, cup midway to her lips. "Did you say _Adrian_ and_ Zara_?"


	103. Chapter 103

**Rifiuto: Non Miriena**

**A/N: Remember the mentions of a wall in previous chapters? Well, here it is... **

_"There can be no deeper despair, no pain less easy to assuage, than losing a husband when you are young."_

-_ Hélène Berr (1921 - 1945), French Woman Who Documented the Nazi Occupation in France_

Berlin, Germany

1892 Leipziger Straße

13 August, 1948

6:00 A.M.

_She awoke reaching for him, only to find his side of their bed cold. After a moment, she sat up, pulling the sheets to her chest. Assuming he was in the bathroom getting ready, she climbed out of bed, grabbing a dressing gown and pulling it on. Silent, she slipped out of the room, heading to the bathroom. When she discovered he wasn't in the bathroom, she returned to their room, and got ready for work. It wasn't until she made it down to the kitchen that she discovered Gerda hadn't seen Adrian either. _

_"Frau Autenburg, have you seen Adrian?" _

_Gerda looked up as Zara entered the kitchen, pulling on her jacket. Wilhelm had already left for work about four, and Adrian had yet to return. "Zara, you're family. You don't have to-" She stopped. "I thought Adrian was with you?" Zara shook her head. _

_"No. We... we got into an argument last night and he stormed out... went for a walk... he is never gone this long..." Gerda quickly stood, going to the younger woman. _

_"Come on, let's go find him. I'm sure he's just gathering his thoughts-" But as they stepped outside, they- and hundreds of other Berliners all around the city- found themselves surrounded by chaos. Streets were dug up, buildings torn down, and hundreds upon hundreds of miles of hastily built brick wall rose around around them, constructed in the middle of the night. _

_Suddenly, neighbors were running up to them, asking if they'd seen their family members, if they'd talked to friends; each time, they gave a shake of the head, too stunned to reply. Eventually, Zara took off down the street, pushing through the throng of people that were rushing about looking for loved ones. "Zara!" Gerda rushed after her, trying to keep sight of the young woman in the dark blue pencil skirt, jacket and white blouse- but soon she lost sight of her. _

_"Adrian! Adrian!" Zara turned back, only to find that she and Gerda had separated; with everyone pushing against each other, it brought back flashes of their arrival at Auschwitz, of everyone pushing against each other, struggling to stay with family members, screaming for each other, begging to be with their husbands and fathers-_

_She stopped, arms going around her waist to protect the babe that, after three years, she still sought to protect. Everything seemed to slow, and she began to hear the pound of her heart within her head-_

_"No, you don't understand! My uncle is on the other side of this wall! Please!"_

_Suddenly, all sound came back in a rush and she turned; hundreds of people were being shoved back by police and guards, denied access to the streets, shops and people on the other side of the wall. Soon, those trapped on both sides would learn of the friends and loved ones, the family members and coworkers, trapped on the opposite side of the wall, with no way of getting to them. Though hundreds would try, thousands would lose their lives because of something as simple as a barrier made of stone and wire. She turned towards the voice._

_"Adrian? Adrian!" She pushed her way through the hordes, not bothering to apologize, her focus only on the man ahead. Finally, she grabbed his shoulder-_

_Only to find herself face to face with a stranger._

_With a murmured apology, she let go of him, stumbling out of the throng of people. Tears began to prick her eyes, and she wrapped her arms tight around herself, struggling to keep the tears at bay. If her husband was on the other side of that wall... she choked on a sob. For the second time in only five years, she'd lost the man she loved; she'd lost her husband, and she wasn't sure she could survive without him. He had been the reason she'd survived the camps, but this-_

_She couldn't take this. Her heart began to break, the last thing she'd said to him ringing in her head. It had been hurtful and harsh and..._

_ "Zara?" Her head snapped up; the man who stood feet from her was disheveled, his shirt torn, and a bruise was forming on his cheek, but it was the coat she recognized._

_"Adrian? Adrian!" She rushed to him, throwing her arms around his neck, tears sliding down her cheeks. "Oh God! I was so scared! I... I thought... I thought you were on the other side... on the other side of the wall..." She pulled away, taking his face in her hands. "When I woke up... you were not there... God, Adrian! Do not do that to me ever again!" She broke down, her arms going once more around his neck. He held her close, lifting her a few inches off the ground._

_"I won't Zara, love, I promise. I'm so sorry I scared you... I never meant to... Shh, hush, wife... it's okay. I'm here. I'm not going anywhere."_

_Eventually, they returned to the house; Gerda met them in the foyer, worry written on her face and blanketing her eyes. Over coffee, Adrian explained how he'd gone for a walk the night before and then stopped by to visit a friend before midnight, returning to Leipziger Straße and making his way to the local coffee shop he and Zara often frequented on their afternoons off from work- the only cafe that stayed open all evening. It was little after two that he headed home; by that time his uncle had gone to work in east Berlin, and the wall was hastily being built. _

_Adrian kept his arm tight around Zara's waist as he talked; their argument the night before completely forgotten now. "The police are saying that no one is to cross the wall; those on our side stay in and those on the other side are to stay out. They're going to be patrolling the wall, killing anyone who tries to get over," Zara choked on a gasp, burying her face in his shoulder. "Uncle Wilhelm already went to work, didn't he?" Gerda nodded, and Adrian sighed, pressing a kiss to Zara's dark curls._

_"How long... how long will the wall be up?" She whispered, tangling her fingers in his shirt. He shook his head._

_"I don't know." He buried his nose in her hair, breathing in her scent. "I'm just glad we're both on the same side. I don't know what I'd do if we were separated again." He suddenly realized what he'd said and glanced at Gerda, who gave him a small smile, quickly brushing the tears off her cheeks. _


	104. Chapter 104

**Rifiuto: Non Miriena**

_"You may not be able to change the world, but at least you can embarrass the guilty."_

-_ Jessica Mitford (1917 - 1996), One of the Six Famous Mitford Sisters_

_Berlin, Germany_

_1892 Leipziger Straße_

Tim nodded, confused as to the older woman's reaction. "Yes. They're only two weeks old, but," He quickly set his cup down, pulling his phone out of his jacket pocket and pulling up a photograph he'd managed to take a couple days ago; Ziva cradled their son, and Mallart held their daughter.

"Oh, they're beautiful."

"Thank you. Agent Mallart is a coworker of ours here at the Berlin office, and we're staying with her until the twins are old enough that we can..." He stopped. "We haven't... decided what we're going to do..." A moment passed, before he gave the older woman a quick smile. "Sorry."

She shook her head. "You don't know what to do when it comes to your children?" Tim nodded. "I take it they were a surprise."

"You can say that again." Tim muttered, and Gerda smiled softly, handing the phone back to him. "Sorry, you mentioned Adrian and Zara? Did you know them?"

The older woman nodded, sipping her tea. "Yes, I knew them both."

He relaxed, feeling as though he were finally getting somewhere in this puzzle. "That's great! I... Ziva and I... we've been looking for them! We... we found a few of their belongings and we've been trying to trace them so that we can give the things back to-"

"You can't give them back, Agent McGee." She replied. He furrowed a brow.

"I... I'm sorry? You just said that you knew-"

"I did know Adrian. He was my nephew."

"Your nephew?" Gerda nodded, getting up from the sofa and going to a bookcase. She pulled something off a shelf and returned, opening it up to a random page. It was a photograph of a young man Tim now knew to be Adrian. He was sitting on the same sofa Tim was sitting on, his attention drawn from the newspaper in his grasp to the camera. He looked older than he did in the pictures Tim and Ziva had of him- possibly twenty-four or twenty-five.

"It was taken in November, forty-eight, three months after the wall went up."

"Wall?" Tim tore his gaze from the photograph. "The... Berlin Wall?" She nodded. "But that was built in August sixty-"

"It wasn't. It was built in August forty-eight. But the German government told the rest of the world that it had been built in sixty-one; the rest of the world didn't care, all that mattered was that Germany was paying for its sins, even as families were being ripped apart." Her gaze shifted to the photograph of the young man; she could see Henrik in him, in his gaze, in his cheekbones, in the way those blue eyes cut deep into your soul. "He was a remarkable young man, Henrik's Adrian."

Tim took a deep breath, asking softly,

"And Zara?" She slowly met his gaze, a sadness filling her eyes.

"I knew Zara."

"What happened to her?" Without a word, she flipped through the album, eventually stopping at another page- this one held a candid shot of a young woman, perched on the arm of a chair, her dark hair pulled up and pinned back. She wore a pencil skirt and a short-sleeved blouse, a pair of heels on her feet. The young woman was leaning against the back of the chair, her head tilted down to stare at something over Adrian's shoulder. They were reading something, both too absorbed in whatever they were looking at to notice the camera.

"It was taken in early forty-seven, after the war. Wilhlem- my husband- and I had gone in search of Adrian and Cora... we found Adrian with..." She sighed, her memories taking her back to the past.

"Zara? She was with him?" Gerda nodded. "So... so she survived the camps... they both did?"

"Yes. Zara was in Auschwitz, and Adrian was sent to Berga an der-"

"Elster?" Tim finished, meeting her gaze.

"Yes. It was a POW camp. Both looked beyond human. They were living skeletons. But... after a few months, some tender love and care, they were looking like normal human beings again. By the time that photograph was taken, both were relatively healthy."

"Did they find work?"

"Zara was a seamstress, and Adrian worked as a clerk for a bookstore, and he was also a printer for one of the newspapers. They were doing well, as well as one could in the economy at the time." She turned another page in the album- in this one, he could see their faces fairly well; the couple were sitting together at the kitchen table, heads bent together as they engaged in soft, private conversation. Adrian had taken her hand, their fingers lacing, and Zara's hair was pinned up away from her face. In the second photograph, Adrian had leaned over, pressing a kiss to her cheek; Zara was blushing- beaming, really- and Tim understood for the first time why Adrian had been so enamored with the young Jewess.

She was gorgeous; not in any Hollywood starlet or real-life princess sort of way, but there _was_ that exotic-ness about her. She was something most people didn't see, something most didn't understand, didn't like, and yet, here was a man- a brilliant young man, who'd had a promising career in whatever he'd chosen to major in at university- who'd fallen so head over heels in love with her, that he was willing to risk his life to protect her. Tim sighed; Zara's beauty was like Ziva's- almost nonexistent, and yet, existent at the same time. It was there, it was acknowledged by others, but not by those that possessed it themselves.

"What happened to them?" He tore his eyes from the photograph, seeing the pain in Gerda's gaze.

She shook her head. "I don't know. I woke up one morning early in nineteen-fifty, two years after the wall had been built, and they were gone. Both of them. Vanished into thin air."


	105. Chapter 105

**Rifiuto: Non Miriena**

**A/N: This takes place at the end of the year, for good reason...**

_"When he says he loves me, it only means he loves me in that particular instant. Like his promises, which he never keeps. Why does he torment me like this, when he could finish it off at once?"_

_- Eva Braun (1912 - 1945), Hitler's Mistress and the Model for the 'Perfect Arayan' Race_

Berlin, Germany

1892 Leipziger Straße

20 December, 1948

_It was four days until Christmas, when perhaps the biggest change of their lives came into play in the smallest of ways. And, as usual, it was Adrian that instigated the trouble-_

_Both he and Zara had managed to find work at other shops in what was now being termed 'West' Berlin; for the city was split straight down the middle- free Berlin on the west, communist Berlin on the right. Neither side was allowed to cross into the other, and strict checkpoints had been set up at the borders. It was on late afternoons like this that Adrian often found himself thinking of his uncle, for Wilhelm had been caught on the other side of the wall._

_As the snow fluttered to the streets of West Berlin, Adrian grasped the small box within his pocket; he'd finally been able to pick up Zara's gift from the antique dealer's- not a ring, as he hoped to one day give her, but something from her past. He pulled his coat closer, knotting his scarf around his neck and trying to ignore the obvious chill in the air. As he passed beneath the streetlights, he stopped, hearing the sound of something caught on the wind._

_It sounded like a child crying._

_A moment passed, but when he didn't hear it again, he shook it off as being his imagination, and moved to continue on._

_Again he heard it, and again, he stopped, this time turning around. It sounded as though it were coming in the direction of the wall, near one of the shops that had since closed. Taking a deep breath, he turned, heading back down the street, as though making for the cafe he and Zara often frequented, when it reality, he was searching for the source of the noise. Quickly, he pulled out the small lighter he used to heat the ink for work, and flicked it open; the light was weak, but his eyes had adjusted enough to the growing darkness that he wasn't having much trouble seeing._

_Finally, his gaze landed on the source and he stopped; kneeling down to get a better look._

_It was a child; a little girl, no more than two or three at most._

_And she was sitting beside the body of a young woman- dead from a bullet-wound to the heart. He quickly glanced over his shoulder, that mind of his working to put the pieces together. Gauging the distance to the wall and the accuracy of the shot, they'd been trying to escape into East Berlin when the mother had been hit; in irony of ironies, the only reason those in West Berlin would try to escape to East Berlin was so they could be with family, trapped on the other side. The dire situations- financially, economically- worried them not at all; their attempts to reach the east were driven by loved ones, family members, husbands, fathers, children, mothers... those left on the other side of the wall, made to suffer and starve thanks to the communist regime that had quickly taken hold of the eastern half of Berlin._

_Adrian understood the desire to reach the east- his uncle was on the other side of that wall; and though the desire to attempt escape from the west was strong, the desire to protect Zara was even stronger. They had barely survived the Holocaust after they'd been forced apart; to know there was nothing but a simple wall separating them would drive both insane. But he understood, he really did._

_After a moment, he flicked the lighter shut and slipped it back into his pocket, reaching for the little girl. The child clutched to her mother, her cries getting louder, and Adrian shook his head. "Shh, hush, little one. I won't hurt you. I want to help. Shh..."_

_Several minutes passed, before finally, the child let him pick her up. He quickly unbuttoned his coat and wrapped it around her; the girl continued to cry, however the sudden warmth from both his body and the coat soon lowered her sobs, and he released the breath he was holding. "What's your name, little one? Hmm?" He quickly checked her wrist for a bracelet and found nothing; a quick check of her neck brought a chain forth, and he pulled out the lighter, quickly igniting the flame and holding up the chain-_

_It wasn't a chain at all, but a small pendant, a heart, with a portrait etched upon it, that he couldn't make out in the weak light. He turned it over however, revealing a name in beautiful script,_

_"Aziza."_

_He glanced at the child, before turning back to the woman. So she was Jewish. He thought back to the house, to where his beautiful Zara was, safe and sound, and then his mind moved to their own child, taken from them before she even left her mother's womb. And here, this child was without a mother, and her father most likely on the other side of the wall._

_A moment passed, before he finally made up his mind. He stood, scooping the child- a toddler, really- into his arms, covering her with his coat. He glanced towards the wall and then back towards the way he'd been heading before he'd been taken off course, counting the steps it would take to return to where he'd been earlier. Not long, if he could do it quietly. He didn't know what possessed him, but Adrian pressed a kiss to the girl's head, asking her to calm and quiet, before he slipped into the shadows, making his way home. _

_"Zara is going to kill me." _

_But as the little girl slowly wrapped her arms around his neck, he found that he really didn't care. There were more important things than death at the hands of his spouse, like saving a life. He knew that Zara could attest to that- what would the challenge, would be getting her and Gerda to agree to let the girl stay with them, even if only for the night._


	106. Chapter 106

**Rifiuto: Non Miriena**

**Thanks to Reader for reviewing 102, 103, 104 and 105.**

_"My delegation cannot refrain from speaking on this question - we who have such an intimate knowledge of boxcars and of deportations to unknown destinations that we cannot be silent."_

_- Golda Meir (1898 - 1978), One of the Founders of the State of Israei, and the Fourth- and First Female- Prime Minister of Israel_

_Berlin, Germany_

_1892 Leipziger Straße_

"What do you mean they vanished? Where did they go?"

Gerda swallowed, shaking her head. "I don't know. Believe me, Agent McGee, I searched and searched for them, but I never found any trace. I do not know if they got over the wall or if they were killed and their bodies buried in unmarked graves, but I have wondered the rest of my days what happened to my nephew and his wife."

"Wait a minute... _wife_?" Tim raised an eyebrow. Gerda nodded.

"Self-uniting. They could not legally marry in the eyes of German law, but to them, a self-uniting marriage was just as binding as a legal one."

He bit his lip, drinking in this new information. "So... let me get this straight... Adrian and Zara got _married_? When? And where? And... so... so she changed her name?"

"Sometime during the war, that is all I know of the subject, that is all Adrian would tell me. And... not legally, but yes, she considered herself his wife. You _must_ understand, Agent McGee, that after the war, those that ran the courts had yet to be replaced; they had done Hitler's bidding for years, and so to them, a marriage between a German and a Jew was..."

"Contamination." He whispered; she nodded as he began to catch on. "But... if they both survived the holocaust, and... if they were married, then... why is there no record of Zara after... after nineteen-forty-three, really?"

"Because by the end of forty-five, the Nazis had burned as many ID cards and papers of the Jews as they could get their hands on; they figured that those left in the camps would die of starvation anyway, and so there would be no need for records and cards and papers. I can only assume that Zara's was among the records burned when Auschwitz was abandoned."

She stood, going to the mantle. A moment passed, as she lifted off a framed photograph, studying it before bringing it to him. "She was quite the beauty, Adrian's Zara. Henrik and Anneliese would have been proud to have her as a daughter-in-law. She was a hard worker, and she knew when and how to put Adrian in his place when he needed it." Gerda stopped, studying the young agent out of the corner of her eye.

She could see several things that were very similar to her nephew- the shape of his face, the cheekbones, his nose, the shape of his eyes. Yes, he greatly resembled her beloved nephew, and his girlfriend... well, from the photographs, she'd swear she was looking at Zara.

"Do you have anything else on them? Anything at all, please?" Gerda met his gaze, before she closed the album and set it on the coffee table. Then she stood, beckoning him to follow. She led him upstairs to the second floor, down the main hallway, to the a door at the very end. As she pushed the door open, she spoke, her voice soft.

"This was their room; when they first came to stay with my husband and, I suggested separate rooms, not realizing the relationship they shared. But it soon became apparent how close they were. They stayed here, the nearly five years they lived with us. I could not bring myself to clear out their things when they left; I guess, a part of me kept hoping they would return, but they never have. Most likely both are dead now, but even so-" She stopped, allowing him to step into the room to look around.

The room was fairly good-sized for the type of house and the age of the structure. A glance at the bed told him all he needed to know; unlike most homes in the forties, where couples slept in twin beds, there was a single bed- a full, single mattress with a wooden head and foot board. Tim gently ran his hand over the foot board- Gibbs would appreciate the time and care given to such a sturdy piece of furniture.

There was a desk near the window and a dresser in the corner, near the closet, made of the same sturdy wood. In the corner, near the small fireplace, there was a rocking chair, with a throw over one arm. On the bed was a patchwork quilt-

"Zara made that, when they first came to stay with us. She needed something to do while they recovered from the hell they'd witnessed and suffered and... so I had some... scraps of material left over and she asked if she could have them. She was welcome to anything she wanted, long as we had it."

Tim nodded, studying the quilt.

_"This room would look much warmer with a quilt. Do you not agree, husband?" _

He turned from the quilt, going to the closet; blouses, skirts and dresses, suits and coats still hung inside, waiting to be worn. A beautiful cocktail dress made of the softest fabric, of the darkest blue, hung at the back; it looked to have never been worn. On the floor of the closet, lay a pair of black gloves, small enough for Ziva's hands. He knelt down, picking them up. They were soft, supple, even after almost sixty years, they were soft to the touch. As he shut the closet door and returned to the center of the room, Gerda returned, holding something in her hands.

"Here." He glanced at it. "It's a DVD. I had some home movies taken back in the forties after the war; a neighbor burned them onto a DVD a few years ago for me. This is a copy. I want you to have it. Maybe it will give you an idea of what happened to them." He took the DVD, thanking her softly.

"Um... may I... take these? I just... I was hoping maybe I could find out the manufacturer- we're trying to follow every lead-" Gerda held up a hand.

"Take them. Zara has no use for them now." Tim nodded, silent. As he left the room, he swore he could hear their laughter chasing after him.


	107. Chapter 107

**Rifiuto: Non Miriena**

_"Do what you feel in your heart to be right- for you'll be criticized anyway. You'll be damned if you do, and damned if you don't."_

_- Eleanor Roosevelt (1884 - 1962), Diplomat, Activist and First Lady of the United States_

Berlin, Germany

1892 Leipziger Straße

7:00 P.M.

_He shut the door softly behind him, adjusting the child on his hip; she held tight to his neck, and after a moment, he glanced down at her, holding a finger to his lips. He wanted her to remain as quiet as possible, as they headed upstairs, being careful to avoid attention from the kitchen and the living room. "I'm going to take you upstairs to the room my wife and I share, okay? I want you to be quiet."_

_Once upstairs, he settled the girl on the bed, wrapping her in his coat. "Now, I'll be right back. You stay here, okay?" The child nodded, and, after a moment, Adrian pressed a kiss to her forehead, unable to stop himself._

_He returned downstairs, finding Zara at the stove, fixing dinner. She'd gotten home from work early, and had the next four days until after Christmas off. It wasn't uncommon for one of them to take over the cooking- the pair enjoyed it, and often spent time together fixing dinner. "Zara?" He poked his head in, pretending to have just gotten home. If she was distracted enough, he could pull it off. "There you are, wife." He made his way towards her, sliding his arms around her waist. His lips found her neck, and she giggled, pulling away._

_"You smell like ink."_

_"I thought you liked that smell." He replied, pressing another kiss to her neck._

_"I do. But not while I am cooking." She gently pushed him away; he sighed, going to the bread box. He cut a slice, setting it on a plate with a pat of butter. Silent, he watched her work, she hummed a soft lullaby, not realizing that the song had attracted a surprise guest. He turned at the soft sound of footsteps, to see the little girl in the doorway, his coat trailing behind her._

_"Hey, you're supposed to stay upstairs." He whispered, rushing to her. He held out the bread; the child took it, hungrily taking a bite. "Let's head back upstairs, okay-"_

_"Adrian, who are you talking-" He sprang to his feet, stepping in front of the child, and blocking Zara's way out of the kitchen. _

_"No one, love. Just... just happy to be home, is all." She raised an eyebrow. _

_"Okay." She stepped forward, he blocked her way. _

_"Where are you going? I thought you were finishing dinner? Or if you're tired, I can finish. You can sit and relax-"_

_"Actually I was going to take a cup of tea to Tante-"_

_"I can do it!" She studied him, before shaking her head._

_"No thank you, Adrian. I can get it. I just wanted to check on her, since this will be the first Christmas without-" He reached for the cup, but Zara held it out of reach. "I said I can get it, Adrian. God, what has gotten into you?"_

_"Nothing." He swallowed, quickly glancing behind him. The little girl looked up at him, still munching on the bread._

_"What are you looking at?" His gaze snapped back to his wife, and he gave her a quick smile, reaching once more for the cup. She moved to the right and he followed; a movement to the left brought the same results. They continued this little dance for several minutes-_

_Suddenly, he stumbled forward, catching her around the waist, unsure of what had caused him to lose his footing. Zara lost her grip on the cup and it shattered upon impact with the ground. "Adrian!" He grinned as they stumbled into the counter. A moment passed before she pushed him away. "What has gotten into you?"_

_"I... I just missed you... can't a husband miss his wife?" She narrowed her gaze, reaching down. "Ow!"_

_"You are lying." She replied, pinching him once more before slipping from his embrace. "How many times must I tell you, husband? You are a horrible-" She'd knelt to pick up the broken cup, and it was then that she found herself eye-level with Adrian's secret. "Who... who is that?" He turned; the little girl had hidden behind the door frame, still wrapped in his coat, the bread still held tight in her hand. She peeked around the door frame, watching Zara with wide frightened eyes. His wife, meanwhile, dropped the broken cup, losing her balance. She sat back against the counter, startled. Without a word, she reached out, grabbing his pants leg and tugging. "Adrian... who is that?"_

_He sighed, kneeling down and helping his wife to her feet. Once she was seated at the kitchen table, he went to the child, scooping her up, coat and all. The little girl clung to his neck, wary of Zara, who was equally wary of her. "This... is Aziza. I found her on my way home from work."_

_"Where is her mother?" She stopped, hearing footsteps in the foyer._

_"Adrian? Zara? What is going on in here?" The couple looked up as Gerda entered the kitchen; her eyes widened at the child in her nephew's arms. Since Wilhelm had been caught on the other side of the wall, Gerda had found it difficult at times to go about her day- childhood sweethearts they'd been- but Zara and Adrian had made it worth it. Now, however, she found a small child- a toddler, really- holding tight to her nephew's neck. "Who is this?" _

_"That is what I would like to know, Tante." Zara replied, narrowing her gaze at Adrian. _

_"Just let me explain, all right?" They waited; Gerda took a seat beside Zara at the table, giving him room to explain. He glanced down at the child, who met his gaze. After adjusting his hold on the girl, he spoke._


	108. Chapter 108

**Rifiuto: Non Miriena**

**A/N: Occasionally, a person will be used more than twice for a quote...**

_"__To fall in love you have to be in the state of mind for it to take, like a disease."_

_- Nancy Mitford (1904 - 1973), Author, One of the Six Mitford Sisters_

_Berlin, Germany_

_Borough of Friedrichshain-Kreuzberg_

_1522 Friedrichshain_

_Midnight_

He studied the small, silver disc in the case before taking it out and sliding it into the DVD player. With the sound off, he turned the TV on and settled back, waiting for the player to warm up. Instead of using his laptop- which he knew would have Ziva up and out of bed even if the twins weren't getting her up every two hours for feedings- he chose the TV downstairs. They were both grateful that Mallart had allowed them to stay, and while the women slept, Tim turned his attention the videos Gerda had given him; he was going to figure out this mystery if it killed him.

Every time he got close to the end, something new would pop up and he'd be back at the beginning.

When it finished warming, he pressed play-

Grainy black and white and colored images came onto the screen; the living room, a kitchen, and then an older man that must have been Adrain's uncle. Suddenly, a young man appeared, sitting on the sofa, he was thin, his hair cut short, and he held tight to a pillow. Obviously, this was Adrian, taken after liberation, when his aunt and uncle had allowed him to stay with them- but where was Zara?

Another video cut into the one before it; countless images of the home, of Gerda and her husband, of Adrian, an occasional glimpse of Zara...

He heard the soft footsteps upstairs; instantly, he sprang to his feet at the soft crying, but it was soon silenced- Ziva most likely had gotten up, if not Mallart. He slowly sank back onto the sofa, gaze caught back in the past as the movie shifted.

Suddenly, the video was colored- grainy, muted colors, typical in films from the forties. He watched in silence as the video shifted, going first from the Adrian in the kitchen to the living room- at one point, he pulled who appeared to be Zara into his arms and they danced around the living room. He couldn't read lips- that was their forensic, Abby's, thing- but he didn't really need to. They were laughing and smiling; obviously whatever they were saying was meant for them and only them.

Occasionally, he would point to the camera and she would turn, a blush coloring her cheeks as she faced the camera, before she would quickly turn back to him, burying her face in his shoulder. Even these few glimpses screamed volumes to Tim; Zara was beautiful, exotic... and wholly unaware of the beauty she possessed. She was a carbon copy of Ziva- from her eyes to her hair to her skin, all the way down to her smile and the devil-may-care confidence she possessed; the way she held herself, the way her eyes lit up, the way her smile radiated through the camera lens, striking every nerve and warming every ounce of blood in a person's body.

The videos seemed to blend into one another- during holidays, birthdays, quiet nights, ones taken at the park and others taken at the beach, Sunday dinners and early mornings. At one point, Tim found himself watching a video of who was obviously Zara, sprawled out on the bed in their room, a book in her grasp. Wrapped in nothing but a sheet or that blanket she'd made, her hair was down in a tangled mass of dark curls; occasionally, she would laugh and blush or hide her face within the pages of her book. There was even an instance where she took the camera from Adrian, turning it on him- dressed in nothing but a pair of pajama bottoms, he tried hard to take the camera back, but she held it out of reach.

At one point, there was a video of the Zara, modeling the dress that hung in the back of the closet- the sweetheart neckline and halter something unseen until the fifties. The deep, midnight blue skirt fell to just below her knees, and there was a white sash tied in a bow around her waist; she was tiny, were Tim to make a guess, her waist had probably been about ten inches around- and for someone who'd had a child and then survived the Holocaust, that was actually exceedingly easy to believe. Her hair was swept back and pinned up away from her face, and she wore a pair of black heels on her feet. She was holding out the skirt of the dress, swinging it back and forth, obviously making a show for Adrian, who stood behind the camera. He said something and she beamed, giggling and releasing her skirt.

Tim sighed; watching the videos, he found that he was completely enamored with her- he couldn't help himself. Every movement, every smile, every laugh... it was almost like he were watching Ziva...

They were twins, with the exception of the age difference, the time period, the circumstances and experiences...

Ziva and Zara could have been identical.

Suddenly, the video changed; they were downstairs in the living room, Zara pulling Adrian onto the sofa with her. They tumbled among the cushions, laughing and smiling at the camera. A moment passed, before Zara sat up and leaned over, catching his mouth in a kiss.

He jumped, feeling someone's hand on his shoulder. "It is just me." Tim glanced behind him, to find Ziva moving around the sofa, their daughter in her arms. "What are you watching, Tim?" She took a seat beside him on the sofa, shifting her hold on the baby.

"Um... they're home videos. Remember the house I tracked down? Well, the woman who lives there is Adrian Fromm's aunt." Ziva's eyes widened. "Yeah, I know. Anyway, she showed me around and told me that after the war, Adrian and Zara lived with her and her husband after the war, until the Berlin Wall was built in forty-eight. She said that... they disappeared in early nineteen-fifty. She thinks they were trying to get over the wall-"

"I thought-" He held up a hand.

"Yeah, so did I." They sat in silence for several minutes, before she turned to the video. "Anyway, she said she had a copy of the video, and gave me one. This is them." They watched the images- this time, these taken at a beach. The bathing suit she wore was a dark blue- the bandeau was cinched in the middle and she wore a high-waisted sheath shirt of the same color, hiding her navel, as was common at the time.

Suddenly, Tim's mouth dropped. Ziva looked up from adjusting her hold on the baby. "Tim, what is wrong? Tim?" Ziva turned to see what he was staring at, and she felt her own jaw drop in surprise. "Is... is that..." Tim nodded, unable to speak. "I... I thought Zara... I thought she lost her child..."

They watched as Zara knelt down next to a little girl, in simple red-polka-dotted skirt and top, no older than perhaps two. The little girl looked up at her, and Zara pointed behind her, as Adrian knelt next to the little girl on the other side. Adrian scooped the child into his lap, pressing a kiss to her cheek, before he leaned over, stealing a sweet kiss from Zara. The last image before the video ended was of Zara waving to the camera, smiling.


	109. Chapter 109

**Rifiuto: Non Miriena**

_"I know that like every woman of the people, I have more strength than I appear to have."_

_- Eva Peron (1919 - 1952), First Lady of Argentina_

Berlin, Germany

1892 Leipziger Straße

8:00 P.M.

_"Adrian, you cannot keep bringing home strays!"_

_"So you and Eva-"_

_"That was different! I was eighteen, and Chava was ten- she was old enough to at least understand and comprehend what was going on! This child... she appears to be barely out of infancy!"_

_"I think she is about two, Zara, love. Maybe three."_

_She looked up at him. Here she was, startled beyond belief that he'd brought home a child- so startled that she'd dragged him upstairs to their room to talk in private- and yet, he was concerned with clearing up the girl's age._

_She sighed, struggling to keep her temper in check. "Adrian... we cannot take in a child. Especially a child that does not belong to..." She stopped, her heart clenching._

_"So I should not have taken you and Eva home that night? I should not have saved your life. Is that what you're saying?" He demanded, voice rising._

_Their argument was anything but private._

_"I am not saying that, Adrian!"_

_"So I should have just let you and Eva die? I should have let you get... picked up by the Gestapo and taken to the camps and... gone on with my life without a backwards glance, is that it?" He demanded, waving his hands as he spoke. Zara took a deep breath, taking a seat on the bed. She pinched the bridge of her nose, struggling to keep from reaching out and wrapping her hands around his neck._

_"Of course not."_

_"Well I couldn't just let her die either! And that's what would have happened if I'd left her there! Her mother is already dead, Zara! Her father is most likley on the other side of that stupid wall, if he isn't also dead! If I'd left her there, then the cold would have gotten to her if the police hadn't!"_

_Zara listened, sighing. If the neighbors hadn't heard their argument, then the whole of West Berlin was listening-_

_"Adrian, shut up."_

_"I wasn't going to let her die, Zara! I know it's not much, but at least she's alive, and if we can-"_

_"Shut up!" He stopped as Zara lifted her head, meeting his gaze. "My God, Adrian, I love you, but sometimes you can be so stupid!" She sprang to her feet, shoving him. "How are we supposed to take care of a child, Adrian? We can barely take care of ourselves! What were you thinking?"_

_"I was thinking that maybe- just maybe- we could give her a hot meal and a warm bed for the night! That maybe we could help her somehow!"_

_"Adrian-"_

_"That maybe..." He stopped, backing away from Zara. She watched him, suddenly understanding the reasoning behind the child, behind his insistence that she stay, even for the night; it all came back to-_

_"Ziva." She whispered, taking a seat on the bed. He didn't reply, but the tears in his eyes confirmed it._

_"I just... I never even got to hold her, to meet her... I did nothing to protect her..."_

_"There was nothing you could do, Adrian, my love," She replied, voice soft. She sniffled, tears slipping down her cheeks at the thought of her baby girl. "She never lived. She never breathed outside my womb... she never tasted my milk... she never met the beautiful man who helped me create her." Quietly, she made her way towards him, reaching up to take his face in her hands. Gently, she brushed her thumbs over the apples of his cheeks. "Listen to me, you beautiful, insufferable man! Please, listen to me, husband." She held his gaze for several minutes, making sure he was paying attention._

_"Zara-"_

_"You cannot save everyone in the world, my Adrian. It is not possible. Sacrifices will be made. I know you tried before, but it nearly cost us both our lives. And I am not going to lose you again- I nearly lost you once, husband, I will not go through that pain again." He sighed, taking her hand and pressing a kiss to her palm._

_"I am sorry if I've scared you in any way, Zara, love. I never meant to." He leaned down, catching her lips in a kiss. She slid her arms around his neck, holding tight to him as he drank her in. When he finally released her mouth, he rested his forehead to hers. "I am only asking because she is so young, wife. It's only for a night- a hot meal and warm bed for her to sleep in, a bath and a simple shelter- she's a child, Zara, and it is nearly Christmas."_

_She swallowed, resting her forehead against his as she thought. Once upon a time, Adrian had done the same for her; given her and her baby sister shelter in the darkest of times... provided them with food and place to sleep, a sense of security that she had not felt since her father had lost his business. And though she'd lost her sister, though she'd lost the baby she'd carried, she'd somehow managed to hang onto Adrian, despite the horrors of the Holocaust and the abuse they'd suffered in the camps._

_Her husband was right- it was nearly Christmas, and she was a child, in need of a warm place to sleep and a meal in her belly. It was the least they could do for the girl-_

_Zara met his gaze, catching his lips in a soft kiss. "One of these days, husband, that beautiful mind of yours is going to get us both killed." He gave her a soft smile, nuzzling his nose to hers. Then, he stole a tender kiss before taking her hand and tugging her downstairs. They found Gerda in the kitchen with the child, the little girl was watching as Gerda sat across from her. A glass of milk and another slice of bread sat before the little girl. The child looked up as Adrian pulled her into the kitchen._

_As Adrian and Zara both took seats at the table, he turned to Gerda. "Would it be all right if Aziza stayed with us for the next couple of days?" Gerda met her nephew's gaze, thinking. "She has nowhere else to go and her mother is dead. The most likely scenario is that her father is on the other side of the wall. Please, Tante. It is only for a night."_

_Gerda glanced at the child. "No." Adrian's face fell, and Zara reached out, taking his hand. After a moment, the older woman stood. "She'll stay through Christmas. It wouldn't be right, allowing her to stay for a night, especially considering the winters here. I'll go make up a bed for her. And we'd better draw her a bath, too." _


	110. Chapter 110

**Rifiuto: Non Miriena**

_"I really don't know what's happened to me, but I have changed from top to toe. I am living in a strange mixture of memories of yesterday and today."_

_- Hélène Berr _(_1921 - 1945)_

_Berlin, Germany_

_1892 Leipziger Straße_

_7:00 A.M._

He banged on the front door, not caring if he woke up the occupant of the house or the surrounding neighborhood. He'd been up all night, thanks to both the babies and the video, while he and Ziva had tried to figure out where the little girl had come from. They'd watched the DVD multiple times, and spent the hours they were up with the twins going over theories. At six, he'd slipped out of the house, letting Ziva know where he was going, and promising to pick up lunch when he returned; Mallart had already left for work at four, having gotten a call from Wilkins about a case.

Taking a deep breath, he knocked on the door again, standing back to wait. Just as he raised his hand to knock again, the door opened, and Gerda met his gaze. "I was wondering when you return." She pushed open the door, allowing him entrance. She led him into the kitchen, pouring a cup of coffee and setting it on the table before him. After a moment, he took a seat across from her, waiting for her to sit and explain.

"Zara and Adrian lied. They had a daughter." Gerda met his gaze.

"I know. Ziva. She died at birth." Tim shook his head.

"No, she didn't." He pulled out his laptop and quickly loaded the DVD onto it after turning it on. As he pressed play and fast forwarded it, he glanced at Gerda. It was only when he stopped at the image of the three of them at the beach, with the toddler. "This is their daughter, this is Ziva-"

But Gerda only shook her head, a sad smile coming over her features. "This is not their daughter." Tim furrowed a brow, confused.

"I... I'm sorry? So... so you're saying that... that this little girl _isn't_ their daughter?" She nodded. "So... what did they do? Kidnap her?"

The older woman chuckled softly. "No. Adrian was not like that. He helped, he did not hinder. When he brought her home, it was to give her a bed and food and a sense of security." Tim raised an eyebrow, now completely lost.

"I... I'm sorry? He... he brought her home?"

"_Ja._ It was winter, before Christmas. He found her sitting beside the body of her mother- she'd been shot and killed trying to get over the wall. And Adrian, Henrik's beautiful boy... he couldn't leave her there. She was a babe, she would have died, had she stayed outside; the winters are harsh here, but especially back then. So he brought her home, told Zara and I of how he'd found her, and we decided, that she would stay through Christmas."

"What happened after? Did her father come and get her? Did they adopt her?"

Gerda bit her lip. "Once you were on the other side of the wall, you did not get over it. My husband was on the other side- he was shot, trying to help a ten-year-old boy get into West Berlin, back in seventy-two."

"I'm sorry." She gave him a small smile.

"He did what he thought was right." Her gaze moved back to the image of the child. "Her name was Aziza. She was a German Jew, from what Adrian could figure out. Two years old, when he brought her home that night. She took to Adrian like no one I had ever seen. Adored him, called him _Vati_, the German word for your American Papa or Daddy. He called her_ Mausi_- his little mouse, because she hardly ever said a word, she would often squeak when she asked for something. And she was devoted to Zara, just as Adrian was..." She took a deep breath, picking up her mug. "That morning... when I got up, they were gone. All three of them." Tim met her gaze.

"This may sound harsh, but, would it be all right if I looked around?" Gerda met his gaze.

"Go on." He thanked her and got up from the table, pulling his camera out of his bag. His feet carried him upstairs, taking him first to Adrian and Zara's room. He got as many photographs as he possibly could, even one of the dress Zara had worn in the video. When he finished in their room, he moved directly across the hall. He'd passed the door as he'd entered the other room, and he'd continuously looked back; it held a mystery behind the old wood, one he was hoping to solve.

Gently, he pushed the door open, poking his head into the room. After a moment, he pushed the door open and slipped inside. As it shut behind him, he lifted the camera looking through the lens to make sure he was getting the proper shot-

And started.

The little girl that sat on the edge of the bed looked to be no more than two at most; she was dressed in a pair of pink pajamas, holding a teddy bear. The woman that sat beside her, brushing the knots out of her hair wore nothing more than a simple dressing gown, her own long dark hair pulled down in a messy braid.

Tim quickly glanced over the rim of the camera; there was no one on the bed, but when he looked back through the lens, she was sitting on the bed, brushing the child's hair. And then, he watched through the lens as a young man joined them, taking a seat on the other side of the child. Stunned into silence, Tim couldn't lower the camera, couldn't turn and flee- he watched as the man gently tickled the child, and then scooped her up, allowing the woman to pull the covers down. Once she was tucked beneath the blankets, he leaned over, pressing a kiss to her head.

Finally, Tim was able to snap a couple photographs. When he finished, he slipped out of the room, feeling as though he'd just stepped through a wormhole into the war years.


	111. Chapter 111

**Rifiuto: Non Miriena**

_"I love children, especially when they cry, for then someone takes them away."_

_- Nancy Mitford (1904 - 1973)_

Berlin, Germany

1892 Leipziger Straße

8:30 P.M.

_After a bath, the child was tucked into the bed in the room directly across the hall from theirs, the door left slightly ajar. It seemed that the child had taken to Zara instantly- for when it came to her bath, she'd clung to Zara's skirt, refusing Gerda's touch. In the end, Zara had ended up giving the toddler a bath, being gentle as she'd washed the girl's hair and rinsed the soap out. A soft lullaby had soon begun to escape her lips, and the child had turned to look at her, dark eyes wide. She asked Zara a question, and the young woman nodded._

_Apparently, the child recognized Zara's lullaby._

_Once she was clean and dried off, Zara helped her into a fresh nightgown; the child clung to Zara, for once in the entire night, refusing to go to Adrian. So he'd watched his wife carry the girl into the bedroom across from theirs, and pull back the covers. Once the child was tucked in, Zara had settled at the edge of the bed; she hummed that lullaby, allowing the child to hold onto her hand the entire time, before squeezing the girl's hand and getting up, slipping out of the room. Unlike Adrian, who'd kissed the girl on the forehead, Zara had refused, not wanting to get attached._

_Problem was, she'd gotten attached from the moment she met the child._

_Finally back in their room, Adrian made his way towards Zara, who was slowly undressing. He slid his arms around her waist, pulling her close. She relaxed, resting her head on his shoulder. "You were wonderful with Aziza tonight." He whispered, squeezing her gently. She sighed, chuckling softly as she nuzzled her nose against his chin._

_"Call it... mother's instinct, I guess." She whispered, reaching up to gently caress his cheek. He brushed a kiss to her temple, pulling away to meet her gaze. "Our Ziva... she would be... about her age."_

_"She'd be three." Adrian replied, squeezing her waist. He could see the tears glistening in Zara's eyes, and after a moment, pulled her close, resting his forehead to hers. "Please, Zara, my love... don't cry. The last thing I want is to see you cry. Please..." She choked on a sob, turning and wrapping her arms around his neck._

_"I do not mean to, I just..." She sniffled. "Ziva would look like her, had she lived..." She shook her head. "I am sorry, husband, I do not know what has come over me-" She pulled away, wiping at the tears on her cheeks, but he grabbed her wrists, pulling her back into his embrace._

_"Seeing what we could have had, what should have been ours... I don't blame you, I feel the same. And I swear to you, I didn't bring her home to replace our Ziva, I just... she needs a warm bed and fully tummy... no child should face death, ever, but especially not four days before Christmas." Zara reached up, caressing his face._

_"I know, my Adrian. You have only the purest intentions at heart... always have." She sniffled, pulling away and taking a seat on the bed, twisting her hands. He knelt before her, leaning down to look into her face._

_"It's you who has brought everything out in me, Zara." She shook her head._

_"It was in you before you ever met me."_

_"But you and Eva made it more prominent-" She chuckled, shaking her head in exasperation. Even five years later, he still couldn't get her sister's name right-_

_"All we did was alert you to a wrong that could never be fixed, Adrian." He squeezed her hand._

_"It may not have been fixed, but you allowed me to help in some small way. I protected you both, didn't I?" A moment passed before she nodded. "Zara, talk to me. What's wrong?" She shook her head, fresh tears sliding down her cheeks._

_"Nothing, I just... want..." Her eyes closed and she turned away from him. He took a deep breath, understanding what she couldn't say, for he wanted it to. He wanted to turn the clock back, to find some way to protect her and their little girl-_

_A moment passed before he stood, leaning down and resting his forehead to hers. "Hey, look at me, love. Zara, look at me." Slowly, she met his gaze. "I love you." A small smile tugged at her lips, and she mouthed the words back to him, before allowing him to take her in a kiss. Slowly, their clothing began to peel off, and soon, she allowed him to move her back towards the pillows of their bed. Clad in only their undergarments, they lay together for several minutes, sharing soft kisses and caresses. Zara wrapped an arm around his waist, holding him close as he slid one hand up her hip, brushing the white silk slip she wore upwards, exposing the soft skin of her hips and thighs._

_Eventually, he pulled away, studying her face; he kissed the tears off her cheeks and then shifted, lying on his stomach, resting his head on his arms. Zara sighed, shifting to her side so she could face him, tucking her arm beneath her head. "I am sorry, husband. I never meant-" He reached over, resting a finger to her lips._

_"Hush, wife." He shook his head. "It's not your fault." He soon replaced his finger with his lips, tasting the salt of her tears. "Someday, Zara, my wife, we'll adopt a child and..." He swallowed his own tears. "And you will be a wonderful mother."_

_She reached up, brushing her fingers against his cheek. "But what courts would allow a Jew and a German to adopt a child together, husband?" She shook her head, not bothering to hide the pain her eyes when they locked gazes next. He sighed, realizing she was right, as her next words broke his heart. "None. As long as I sleep in your bed, we will never be parents." _


	112. Chapter 112

**Rifiuto: Non Miriena**

**Thanks to Reader for reviewing 106, 107,108, 109, 110 and 111.**

_"As he journeyed alone toward the monster that is death, we could do nothing to help him, nor the others still alive; all the words of strength on our lips melted away, our love not great enough to bind them to life, and our hope not enough to will them to live."_

_- Alfred Nestor (1941 -), Childhood Neighbor of Eva Braun_

_Berlin, Germany_

_1522 Friedrichshain_

_1:00 P.M._

Tim yawned, taking a sip of his coffee. After visiting Gerda again, he'd gone to the Archives, searching for anything on a child named Aziza and her connection to Adrian Fromm and Zara Hirsch.

He found nothing.

Now, he sat watching the videos again, jotting down things he noticed within the footage- from the dresses and skirts Zara wore to the paper Adrian read; anything could be a clue, a missing piece of the puzzle that would lead them to this couple- if they were even still alive.

Suddenly, he jumped, hearing one of the twins starting to cry on the monitor, and quickly set his cup down, scrambling to his feet. He rushed upstairs, ducking into the room Mallart allowed them to use as a nursery, making his way towards the crib. Gently, he scooped up their son, being careful not to disturb his sister, who was sound asleep. After changing the baby, Tim wrapped the child in a blanket and took him downstairs, settling in the corner of the sofa with the infant tucked into the crook of his arm. "There, is that all you wanted, little love? Hmm? Didn't want to be with sister anymore? Wanted a little time away from her? That's okay. We'll spend it together- let Mama and sister sleep in."

The little boy looked up at him, his blue eyes drinking in everything about his father. Tim chuckled softly; it was highly likely that their children would inherit Ziva's dark eyes, and it didn't bother him. Though green were the dominant gene in the McGee family- there was a splash of hazel, mediocre as it was- Tim was looking forward to his children inheriting the darkness of their mother's gaze. And actually, he found he was looking forward to a lot of things-

After a moment, he turned his gaze back to the video, jotting down as much as he possibly could. Eventually, the baby began to fuss, and Tim quickly set the notebook and pen down, getting up. He made his way to the kitchen, grabbing a bottle from the fridge and warming it up. The last thing he wanted to do was wake Ziva- it had been bad when she'd been pregnant, but now that the twins were born...

He shuddered; considering they'd both been running on little sleep in the last two weeks since the birth, that was one wake-up call he didn't ever want to face. He glanced at the clock; just after one-thirty. When he'd gotten back with lunch, Mallart had called the check on them- she wouldn't be back until later; the team had caught a case that needed immediate attention, and it was going to be a long night. They said it was okay, promising that they wouldn't cause too much chaos- maybe give the babies each a bath later and then go over the evidence of their case, but then Ziva had put the twins down for a nap and promptly slipped into the guest bedroom, following suite, and Tim hadn't had the heart to wake her.

Gently, Tim adjusted his hold on his son, slipping the nipple of the bottle into the baby's mouth before returning to the living room and taking a seat on the sofa. He watched his son for several minutes, making sure the baby was nursing properly before turning his attention back to the home movies. He'd watched these countless times last night, drinking in as many details as he possibly could, and yet, he still didn't know a thing about the couple or what had led them to vanish into thin air.

A moment passed as he glanced down at his son, making sure the boy was still nursing, before turning his gaze back to the videos. He watched in silence as Adrian pulled Zara into his arms; she wore the blue halter that hung forgotten in the closet of their room, and her hair was pinned back. She wore a pair of black gloves, and rested her head on Adrian's chest as they swayed back and forth to the music.

At one point, he spun her out and then pulled her back in; the music appeared to change as they began to swing dance in the living room. Zara's skirt belled out around her, and she laughed as he dipped her. Soon, he pulled her back up, taking her face in his hands and kissing her. Another image appeared- from the same setting, only this time, Zara pulled away, turning towards something outside of the frame; they still held hands, their fingers loosely linked together. Zara still wore those soft, black gloves-

He glanced down at his son, gently removing the bottle from his son's mouth. After resting the baby against his shoulder and rubbing his back, he got up, returning upstairs. "There you go, little love. Get some sleep okay? Sister should be up soon, but you can sleep as long as you want; you've already been taken care of." He pressed a kiss to the boy's head, laying the baby back within the crib. Once he returned downstairs, Tim quickly jotted down a short note, telling Ziva he was going to stop by the store and pick up a few things for dinner, that their son had already been fed and changed and was sleeping soundly with his sister, and that he'd be back soon.

Pulling on his coat, he dug into his pocket for the keys-

Something dropped to the floor, and he turned at the soft _clink!_ as it hit the ground.

Slowly, Tim knelt down; they were Zara's black gloves, that Gerda had told him to take. But as he picked them up, something fell out of the left one. Being careful, he picked the object up, studying it as it rested within his palm.

Pinned to a small square of black paper, was a simple set of earrings.


	113. Chapter 113

**Rifiuto: Non Miriena**

_"But feelings can't be ignored, no matter how unjust or ungrateful they seem."_

_- Anne Frank (1929 - 1945)_

Berlin, Germany

1892 Leipziger Straße

24 December, 1948

7:00 P.M.

_The small box clicked as she lifted the lid. "Oh, Adrian!" _

_He shrugged, reaching over to gently brush the tears off her cheeks. Slowly, she looked up, shock written on her features. "Do you like them?" _

_"Wh... but.. where... they were taken... when we went to the ghetto... where did you find them?" She choked on a sob, the beautiful, simple amethyst studs winking at her in the light of the fire. He shrugged again, dropping his hand from her cheek._

_"I found them in an antique shop the night I found Azi. Asked the man where he'd found them and how much- said he bought them from a Nazi officer's wife after the war. She needed the money because they were fleeing to Argentina; told him her husband had taken them from some... Jewish doctor's wife when they were sent to the ghetto in Warsaw. I figured- well, I hoped," He amended. "That these were... so I bought them. I remember you told me about how when you were little, your mother would let you wear them for special occasions."_

_Zara nodded, turning her gaze back to the earrings. "Hanukkah services and... family gatherings..."_

_"I hope I was right. Because if I bought another woman's earrings, you might as well just-" He was cut off as Zara launched herself at him, her mouth finding his. She cradled his head in her hands as she drank him in; eventually, she pulled away, throwing her arms around his neck. _

_"I do not know how I will ever be able to repay you for giving me back Ima's earrings, husband. Everything and nothing does not seem to be enough-" He tightened his arms around her waist, pressing a kiss to her head._

_"Just having you in my arms is enough, Zara, my love." He whispered, squeezing her gently. Then, he pulled away, pressing a soft kiss to her lips before getting up. He held out a hand, helping her to her feet, and then led her into the kitchen._

_Christmas had finally arrived, and with it, snow, heartache, and Adrian's renewed faith in people- to an extent. Zara still refused to believe in God, and she hadn't mentioned or asked about a menorah since the end of the war- fully, absolutely turning her back on her faith. But she had gotten closer to the Aziza; the child, even only at two-years-old, had managed to subsequently worm her way into both Zara's heart and Gerda's in a matter of a few short days._

_She'd slipped out of her room that first night, dashing across the hall and into their room, waking Adrian up with a whimper; he could only guess that she'd had a bad dream, and wanted someone to hold her. But when he'd scooped her up and settled her within the blankets of their bed, the child had crawled over and settled in Zara's arms; the woman didn't wake, just wrapped her arms around the child and nuzzled her head. Adrian had pursed his lips and narrowed his eyes, miffed only slightly at being rebuffed, but had soon decided that sleep was a better option, and curled around his wife, holding them both close._

_And when he and Zara had been at work, Gerda had looked after the child; the afternoons were spent with stories, radio and cleaning. It was fairly evident that the child had them all wrapped around her little, pudgy fingers. The problem hung in the air like mistletoe over the door: What to do with Aziza after the holidays? _

_As they took seats at the kitchen table, the child in question rushed to Zara; she scooped the girl up, settling her on her lap. Zara had made a couple next dresses for the child, and they'd managed to buy a couple toys that she would enjoy opening. "There are a couple presents under the tree, Iza. How about you find them and come back and we will open them here, okay?" The child nodded, sliding off Zara's lap and rushing into the living room. Once gone, Zara glanced at Adrian. "What do we do, husband? We cannot keep her; her father may be looking for her-"_

_"If he isn't dead. And if he is, all the better." Gerda set her coffee cup roughly back on the table. Zara started, surprised to hear such a thing come from his mouth. _

_"Adrian!" He glanced at the women. _

_"What? I hope it's true." He jumped as Zara reached out, pinching him. "Ow! Well, I do! I'm sorry, but her mother is dead- and that's horrible- and if her father's on the other side of that wall, he's either dead or dying. He's not going to be seeing her anytime soon, and we can give her a place to sleep and a hot meal and love... that's all she wants, she's a child, that's all any child wants. Doesn't matter who gives it to them, long as they get it." _

_"Oh, Adrian." Gerda shook her head. "What would your father say?" He stopped, thinking. _

_"I think he'd agree with me. Ow! Would you stop?" He turned, annoyance in his eyes as Zara once more pinched him._

_"That is a horrible thing to say, Adrian Fromm." Zara replied, getting up and going to the coffeemaker. She poured a cup, quickly taking a sip as she leaned against the counter._

_"Don't tell me you haven't been getting attached to Azi either, Zara. You're just as attached as I am, and you know it." She sighed, moving her gaze from his to her coffee._

_"And if I am?" She whispered. "No judge would give us custody of her, you know that, husband. She would end up in an orphanage before she was given to our care. Simply because I am a Jew." Adrian sighed, getting up and making his way towards her._

_"Then we'll adopt her." He replied, reaching out to take her hands. She looked up, incredulous. _

_"Adopt? And what makes you think a judge will give us the right to adopt her? You maybe, but not me. Never me." She took a deep breath. "All anyone sees when they look at me is... a filthy Jew who should have died in Auschwitz..." Tears came to her eyes, and Adrian reached out to take her hand, but she pulled away, setting her mug down._

_"They don't think that, Zara." He whispered, pulling her into his arms. Tears pricked her eyes, and she rested her head on his shoulder. "No one thinks that-"_

_"Yes, they do, Adrian. Why do you think so many have fled to Israel? We are not wanted, here, even after it has been proven that we as a people have done nothing wrong. No matter who survives, we are still the ones to blame, because we survived... so... how can you be expected to raise a child properly with a Jewess as your wife?" She pulled away, shaking her head, pushing herself away from the counter-_

_The cup shattered, and quickly, she knelt down to pick up the pieces, making her eye level with Aziza, as the child came back with a small wrapped present. A moment passed, before Zara dropped the broken pieces of the cup, standing. She quickly wiped her hands and went to the child. "Hey, little love. What do you say we open them in front of the fire, where it is warm?" The child nodded, dashing back into the living room. A moment passed before Zara followed, glancing back at Adrian. _

_He watched her go before grabbing the broom and quickly sweeping up the pieces; he met Gerda's gaze. "Zara is going to be a mother, Tante Gerda. I don't care what I have to do or who I have to talk to. I'm going to make Zara a mother if it kills me." _


	114. Chapter 114

**Rifiuto: Non Miriena**

**Thanks to Reader for reviewing 112 and 113.**

_"This Court is forever adding new stories to the temples of constitutional law, and the temples have a way of collapsing when one story too many is added."_

_- Douglas H. Jackson (1945 - ), Chief United States Prosecutor at the Nuremberg Trials _

_Berlin, Germany_

_1522 Freidrichshain _

_One Week Later_

They winked at him, taunting him, like a couple of children annoying the neighbor's dog.

_We know something you don't know. _

A pair of tiny, one carat diamond-cut amethyst eyes, watching him look through their evidence, go over every minute detail of their case, snickering as he struggled to figure out what happened to the couple.

_We know all about Adrian and Zara... and you never will. _

He tried to ignore them, but the jewels continued to taunt him, sitting on the table, resting upon the black square of paper they'd resided on for over fifty years; Tim had had the jewels appraised, they were from the war years- before, actually. The twenties, to be exact.

_We know why she left us behind, why she hid us in her gloves, why she ran off and never returned. We know what happened to her. _

"Tim?" He jumped, letting out a yip of surprise. "Calm down. It is just me." He relaxed, reaching up and squeezing the hand Ziva rested on his shoulder. "What are you looking at?" He'd woken her up that day to show her the earrings he'd found; she'd been grouchy, until he'd told her of the black gloves Zara owned, and how the earrings had been hiding in the left one. Since that day, every chance she got, Ziva ran searches on the internet for jewelry dealers in the Warsaw in the twenties- since Zara's family had been in Warsaw, and they most likely belonged to someone in her family as opposed to Adrian's- after having searched for ones in Berlin and coming up empty for such a specific pair of earrings.

He sighed, pushing the evidence away as she took a seat at the table. "Nothing, just... trying to... solve this... are the twins-"

"They are both sound asleep. And you should be too. Come on." She stood, holding out a hand. He shook his head.

"I have to keep-"

"Tim, I am tired, and so are you. We have three week old twins that keep us up most hours of the night, and we are working a case that has not been considered a case for nearly sixty years. Most likely, both Adrian and Zara are dead and buried in unmarked graves, like so many from the _Shoah_ were."

"They survived the Holocaust. And Aziza-"

"Is either dead or getting on with her life somewhere in Berlin."

He shook his head. "No, I need to finish-" But Ziva grabbed his hand, stopping him from reaching for another file.

"The evidence will still be here. No one is going to break into Mallart's apartment and steal a case file on a couple from the _forties_. It will not kill you to join me for a nap. You need it. We both do." She said, pulling him close when he reluctantly stood; her hands went into his hair, and she kissed him softly before tugging him upstairs.

They checked on the twins, and when the were satisfied both were sleeping soundly, made their way across to their bedroom. Once the door was shut, Ziva turned on the baby monitor and promptly crawled back under the covers. After slipping out of his shoes, Tim reluctantly joined her. They settled among the blankets, though neither was sleeping-

"They adopted that little girl, and got out of West Berlin, over the wall and... out of Germany somehow." Tim sighed, shifting onto his back. He slung one arm over his eyes, trying to keep from seeing the piles and piles of evidence they'd collected since this case began nearly ten months ago. "I just can't figure out how."

Ziva 'hmm'ed softly in response, not shifting from her side. She faced the door, not because she was made at Tim, but because she was afraid if she faced him that she'd start touching him and not be able to stop. The last thing she needed was to ravish the father of her children, especially when she knew his mind wouldn't be on them or sex, but on this case and finding Adrian and Zara. "I've looked through everything; checked every obituary, looked at every avenue, and I can't find anything."

"Give it a break, Tim." She murmured, sleep beginning to take control-

"And then you throw in Aziza; I don't know if they adopted her or just took care of her-"

"She... sleep..."

"And then there's Gerda." He continued through clenched teeth. "She's hiding something, I know she is. Because when I've asked, she's changed the subject or-"

After a moment, Ziva pulled her pillow over her head, and when that didn't work, she shifted onto her back, reaching over and clamping a hand over his mouth. "Timothy, I know you want to figure out this case, but I have not gotten much sleep in the last three weeks since the twins were born and neither have you. I would like very much to get some sleep while I have the chance, and I suggest you do the same. Otherwise, you will be sleeping in the sewer with-" But before she could finish, crying reached their ears, and she groaned in annoyance.

"No, I'll get her." Ziva watched as he got out of bed, heading for the door.

"How do you know it's our dau-" Tim turned back to her.

"Because our little boy woke up earlier, and I gave him a bottle so you could get some extra sleep. He's sound asleep, and now his sister is up." Tim sighed. "Which is typical with twins. I'll be right back."

In a matter of minutes, Tim returned, their little girl cradled gently in his embrace. He took a seat on the bed, talking softly to his baby girl. The infant watched her father with wide blue eyes, her tiny hand reaching out for his finger. Tim chuckled, leaning down and brushing a soft kiss to her forehead, before turning to Ziva, who sat watching her lover with a dreamy smile on her face. "Ziva. Ziva." She snapped out of it, meeting his gaze. "She's hungry." A moment passed, before she realized and quickly tugged up her sweatshirt. Gently, Tim laid the baby in her arms, and then settled back, allowing Ziva to nestle into his embrace as she nursed their daughter.


	115. Chapter 115

**Rifiuto: Non Miriena**

_"The future belongs to those who believe in the beauty of their dreams."_

_- Eleanor Roosevelt (1884 - 1962)_

Berlin, Germany

1892 Leipziger Straße

30 January, 1949

6:00 A.M.

_"I am sorry, my husband."_

_Adrian looked up; water dripped from his chin, and he turned off the faucet, grabbing a towel and quickly drying his face. He glanced at her in the mirror. "What are you apologizing for, Zara? You've done nothing wrong."_

_She leaned back against the door frame, dressed in only her slip. With the coming of the New Year, came the deepening of worries that Zara couldn't seem to let go of- parenthood. The fact that she couldn't give Adrian another child weighed heavily on her mind. So it was near the end of January that she finally dared to broach such a subject. "For taking away your chance." And without another word, she pushed herself away from the door and headed back towards their bedroom._

_"Chance? What chance?" He quickly set the towel down, chasing after his wife. She was pulling on a fresh white blouse, her fingers shaking as she worked on the buttons. "Zara, talk to me."_

_A moment passed, before she stopped working on the buttons, turning to him. Sighing, she went to the bed, perching on the edge. "To be a father. To... have a family." She sniffled, twisting her hands. "Maybe... maybe if you had married a... a good... German girl instead of a... filthy Jewess... you would have children by now. Healthy children... so many you would lose count."_

_He made his way to the bed, taking a seat beside her. "Don't talk like that-"_

_She shook her head. "But it is true-"_

_"Zara," Slowly, he reached out, taking her hand. She glanced down as he laced their fingers together. "If I'd wanted to marry a good German girl, then I would have married a German girl before I went to university. Or even while I was at university. The fact that I didn't, is because I didn't want to. I didn't want to marry a German girl. I wanted to marry you, because I love you." He reached over, lifting her chin. "And I don't care about having children. We had a child- I was a father, I felt our baby girl kick and move within your belly, that alone..." He sighed. "It is not your fault that you can't have children, just as it is not your fault that our daughter died. You are not to blame, Zara." A moment passed, before he pulled her close, resting his forehead to hers. "Okay? You aren't to blame."_

_Slowly, she nodded, wrapping her arms around his neck and resting her head on his shoulder._

_A little after six-thirty, they told Gerda and Aziza goodbye and left for work; Zara slipped her arm through her husband's, keeping close to him. Though the new year had just begun, the hostile-ness against the remaining, surviving Jews left in Berlin- and in Germany in general- was still there, floating upon the surface. But a new wave of hostility was quickly overtaking the feeling towards the Jews, and it was being replaced with a hostile-ness towards East Berlin, in the form of one word:_

_Communism._

_The fear of communism was so rampant, that even the countries clear across the oceans were affected- America perhaps most of all. Since the wall had gone up in August, forty-eight, Western Berliners had read of how communism was spreading- from the Union of Soviet Socialist Republics- known as the USSR, formerly known as Russia, to China, Lithuania, Hungary, the eastern part of Finland, and half of Zara's native Poland- the eastern side; the threat of communism terrified those in West Berlin, many were convinced that their friends and family trapped in East Berlin had turned to communism, as was common in such soviet-occupied states._

_Therefore, West Berliners didn't trust easily- anyone that even looked remotely different to them was subject to scrutiny- something Zara knew first hand, being Jewish. As they walked, headed for Zara's work, she kept her head down, not making eye contact with others they passed on the street. Adrian, for his part, kept her close, daring anyone- man or woman- to say a word against his wife. Most just nodded and continued on._

_Once they reached the dressmaking shop she worked at, Adrian tugged her gently into the building, turning to her. He slid his hands around her waist, pulling her close. She rested her head on his shoulder, breathing in his scent as her eyes closed. "I'm going to stop by the agency today, see what I can find out about adopting a child."_

_Zara pulled away, meeting his gaze. "Adrian... no... you... you cannot be serious..." He took her face in his hands._

_"I am serious, Zara. I've been thinking of this a lot lately, and since our chance to naturally conceive a child has been taken from us thanks to Mengele, then we have no choice but to adopt."_

_"Adrian... no judge will allow us to adopt a child. No judge is willing to give us a marriage license, what makes you think one will be willing to give us a child?"_

_"Because it's a new year, Zara, my love. Because it's time the Jews stopped paying for the sins of the Germans, and it's time we had a family of our own."_

_"We had a family, Adrian. And it was taken from us." She whispered, reaching up and gently smoothing the lapels of his jacket._

_"Well we are going to have a family again, Zara, love." He met her gaze. "I've been doing research; talking to a couple of my father's old colleagues. They said that if a child's parents are deceased, or one is deceased and one is absent, and there is no other family around willing to take her, then the courts can- if they're willing- to grant temporary custody to a couple if they believe the couple is taking adequate care of the child. Now, from what I've been able to figure out, we know her mother is dead, and her father is on the other side of the wall; she has no family that has come to claim her, so we may just be granted temporary custody."_

_She furrowed a brow. "Temporary custody? Of... of whom, husband?" He smiled softly at her, eyes shining, resting his forehead to hers as he whispered,_

_"Aziza."_


	116. Chapter 116

**Rifiuto: Non Miriena**

**A/N: I'm gonna_ try_ to keep this _under_ 120 chapter, guys. Can't make any promises, but I'm gonna try. - Ev**

_"Living in dreams of yesterday, we find ourselves still dreaming of impossible future conquest..."_

_- Charles A Lindbergh (1902 - 1974), American Aviator_

_Berlin, Germany_

_1892 Leipziger Straße_

_Three Days Later_

_10:15 A.M._

Gerda opened the door to find Tim standing on her doorstep, hands in his pockets. She had expected this, had expected that he'd have more questions, but she wasn't expecting him to pull out a small piece of black paper, with a pair of amethyst earrings on it. Her gaze shifted to the earrings, and she felt her heart stall momentarily. How could she forget those earrings?

_"They were your mother's, Zara? The earrings Adrian found?" _

_"Abba had bought them for Ima not long after they got married. They were the one possession Ima begged to take when we were sent to the ghetto, but they took them from her... I never thought I would see them again." _

Adrian had given them back to Zara, Christmas of forty-eight; he'd found them at an antique shop-

And for all these years, she'd worried that something had happened to them, that Zara had lost them, or that, perhaps, she'd taken them with her when they fled.

"Where did you find these?" Gerda asked, gently taking them from the agent. Tim swallowed, returning his hands to his pockets.

"They were in Zara's gloves." She nodded, stepping back and allowing him entrance. Once they were seated at the kitchen table, Tim asked,

"I want to know more about Aziza. I've looked in every orphanage record and every adoption file from the late forties I could get my hands on, and I haven't found anything on her."

"That's because there isn't anything, Agent McGee." Gerda whispered, taking a sip of her coffee. He started, eyes widened.

"I... I'm sorry?" She met his gaze, nodding.

"There isn't any records on her."

"What do you _mean_ there aren't any records on her?_ She's a child! She should have a birth certificate, healthcare records... something... anything!_"

Gerda sighed, setting her cup down. She folded her arms on the table, giving him a moment to gather his thoughts and quiet down before she spoke. Once he was silent, she cleared her throat, glancing once more at the earrings. "Aziza was the child of rape- the daughter of a Holocaust survivor. Her mother was raped by a German officer, and when Adrian found her, her mother was trying to escape to Israel with her, when she was shot and killed. You cannot find anything on her because there is nothing to find. When she was born, there was still Antisemitism towards the Jewish people- those that survived the Holocaust were looked on as problems- bugs that had survived a massive extermination and needed to be destroyed."

Tim met her gaze. "Who was her mother?" But Gerda didn't immediately respond. Instead, she stood, beckoning for him to follow. He sighed, getting up from the table and trailing after her; she led him upstairs, to the bedroom across the hall. As soon as she opened the door, Tim knew what room it was- it was the room Aziza had stayed in when she was with them.

Gerda stepped aside, allowing him to step into the room and look around. This time, he got a better look around than he had last time. On the bed, was a white and pink blanket- similar to the one on Adrian and Zara's bed- and a doll sat among the pillows. The dresser held clothes for a little girl, and there were a few things hanging in the closet. He turned back to Gerda after taking a few photographs. She held something out to him.

"What's this?"

"It's the pendant Aziza was wearing when Adrian found her." Tim held it, studying the image- instead of a photograph, the portrait upon the pendant was etched; she was a beautiful woman, who had never watched her daughter grow up. "I don't know why they didn't take it when they left- and then I found it beneath the blankets when I made her bed one afternoon, not long after they left. She must have dropped it at some point." A moment passed before she met Tim's gaze.

"Do you mind if I take it? I'll bring it back, I promise, but I want-"

"Of course, keep it for as long as you need it." Tim turned his gaze from the pendant, drinking in as much as he could of the room again. There was a small, hand-carved cradle in the corner near the window for the doll, with a small carved table, a tea set just big enough for a child. A small bookshelf sat beneath the window, and after a moment, Tim made his way towards it, kneeling down to study the titles.

There was a copy of _The Secret Garden_, _A Little Princess_, and _Anne of Green Gables_, a book of fairy tales, as well as a few titles he didn't recognize. But he could tell that they were all well-loved, much-read copies- the corners were worn as were the edges of the spines. Though it wasn't much, clearly Zara and Adrian had done all they could to give Aziza everything she could ask for- even if all she really wanted was love and someone to protect her.

After a moment, he stood, returning to Gerda. A soft sigh escaped his lips, and gave her a soft nod. She returned it with a small smile. "I'll bring this back as soon as possible, I promise." Slowly, Gerda reached up, cradling his cheek.

"I know you will. You are a good man, Agent McGee." He took a deep breath.

"Please, what was her name? Aziza's birth mother?"

Gerda met his gaze. She swallowed. "Emilie.


	117. Chapter 117

**Rifiuto: Non Miriena**

**A/N: Happy New Year from Ashland! Love you all, Ev and Z.**

**Thanks to TVismydrug for reviewing 116, and Reader for reviewing 114, 115 and 116.**

_"I look at my mother, connected by a breath of glimmering hope, her red and shadowed eyes reveal that some element of our whole being has been lost and, somehow, thrown away. Sob-gasp, sob-gasp, sob-gasp. Slowly, that feeling within me fades. But wisps of it stay with you, locked in the chambers of your mind, always."_

_- Alfred Nestor (1941 -)_

Berlin, Germany

1892 Leipziger Straße

8:00 P.M.

_"How can they do this to us? I explained the situation to Judge Himmler- remember him, Tante? He was a good friend of Father's? Well, anyway, when I explained the situation to him, he had the audacity to tell me that if it's proven that her parents are both dead, then she'll face time in an orphanage before we can even think of adopting her! And that's only if someone else doesn't adopt her first!" He slammed the cup down on the table. "It doesn't matter that her mother is dead, that her father might as well be too! And we love her! She is as much our daughter as if she'd been born of Zara's own womb! As if we'd created her ourselves!"_

_Gerda sighed, wrapping her hands around her cup of coffee. Adrian had gotten off work early, about five; he'd met up with a friend of his father's after work, and explained the situation to him. After listening to him, the older man had given him the cold hard facts- unless the father could be located, Aziza would be placed in an orphanage, where she would be at the mercy of hundreds of couples that wanted a child, instead of leaving her with the couple that had taken her in, that had looked after her- it was clear, that in the short time the girl had been with them, Adrian and Zara had begun to look at Aziza as though she were their own daughter._

_He sighed, leaning against the counter, forcing himself to take a deep breath. "All Zara wants is to be a mother- that's all. It's simple... except for us." He swallowed, moving away from the counter and taking a seat across from his aunt. "Because Mengele got his hands on her... that sick bastard took away the one thing Zara and I..." He swallowed, reaching over and picking up his mug. "Sorry, Tante."_

_Gerda watched him, seeing the pain in his beautiful blue eyes. For a brief moment, she was looking at her brother, worried about his son, away at university. Silently, she reached over, laying her hand on his arm. To see her beloved nephew in such pain tugged at her heart, and she wished there was something she could do-_

_"Ima!" Adrian looked up as the front door opened and Zara slipped inside, Aziza rushing towards her, dark hair in braids. Instantly, Zara knelt down, scooping the child into her arms. _

_"There is my little love!" She pressed a kiss to the child's cheek, allowing the little girl to wrap her arms tight around her neck. "Adrian? Tante?" _

_"We're in here, Zara." Gerda replied, as Zara entered the kitchen with Aziza settled on her hip. Adrian met his wife's gaze, forcing a quick smile._

_"Oh no." Her husband shot out of the chair so fast it startled Aziza and she squealed, burying her face in Zara's shoulder. "What hap-" He cut her off with a soft kiss, before reaching out and gently rubbing the child's back._

_"We need to talk." Zara glanced at Gerda, who sighed, getting up. She squeezed Zara's hand pressed a kiss to Adrian's cheek, before pressing a kiss to Aziza's head._

_"I'm meeting Ingrid for dinner, remember? I have had these plans for weeks. You both will have the house to yourselves. Aziza already had dinner, but she insists you both tuck her in. Dinner is in the fridge, a few minutes in the oven will warm it up. I won't be long, I promise." Then, without another word, she left, shutting the door softly behind her. There was someone she needed to talk to- someone close to Ingrid, who could help her nephew and his wife out. Once she was gone, Zara lifted her gaze to Adrian's, silent._

_"What are you hiding from me, husband?" Her voice was even, monotone. He sighed, taking her arm and leading her upstairs. Once they'd tucked Aziza in and eaten, they settled on the sofa, watching the flames dance in the fireplace. A moment passed, before Adrian got up, turning on the radio. Zara watched him, letting him fiddle before pouncing. "Adrian. Talk to me."_

_He ignored her, turning the knob, flipping between channels. After a moment, she got up, stopping across from him. Without a word, she reached out, catching his hand and pulling it away from the radio. Then, she tugged him into the middle of the living room, sliding her arms around his neck as Ella began to sing, asking her lover to dream of her, despite the distance between them. Slowly, Adrian rested his hands on her waist, and they swayed gently back and forth. "You have to talk to me eventually, Adrian. Otherwise whatever you are hiding will kill you. And I cannot allow that- because if you do not tell me, you know very well I will kill you first."_

_He chuckled, resting his forehead to hers. A sigh escaped his lips, and he opened his mouth. "I-"_

_"What is it, husband?"_

_"It's about... Azi." Zara looked up at him, eyes narrowing with suspicion._

_"What did you do?" He started, surprised._

_"Why do you automatically assume-" But they were soon interrupted by screams coming from upstairs, and their stand-off dropped to the wayside as they rushed upstairs, to find Aziza tangled in the blankets of her bed, screaming for them._

_"Aziza! Aziza, hush, little love! It is us! We are right here!" Finally, Zara was able to take a seat on the bed and pull the child into her lap. The girl burrowed into her side, small arms wrapping tight around the woman's waist, sobs shaking her small body. "Hush, Aziza, my little love. It was only a siyut, that is all it was." Adrian furrowed a brow, confused as he took a seat beside them. "Just nightmare, little love." Zara whispered, pressing a kiss to the child's head; to which Adrian nodded, understanding. Once he sat down, though, the girl climbed into his lap, burrowing close._

_"Vati!" He wrapped her tight in his arms, gently rocking her back and forth._

_"Shh, little love. Ima and I are right here. No one is going to hurt you, we won't let them." He glanced at Zara, before brushing a kiss to the girl's head. Once they'd gotten her calm and tucked her back into bed, Adrian returned downstairs to turn off the radio and lock the door, knowing that Gerda had a key. He returned upstairs, to find his wife sitting in the rocking chair, staring at the floor, dressed in only her slip. He could see the goosebumps on her skin, and after a moment, he went to her, kneeling down to meet her gaze. "Zara-"_

_"We have to get her back to her family- to her father, on the other side of the wall." Adrian sighed, shaking his head as he reached up, taking her hands._

_"Zara, love-"_

_"I lost my family," She whispered, tears slipping down her cheeks. "Because of Hitler. She will not lose what is left of hers because of some stupid length of stone and brick."_

_"Zara, we can't-"_

_"I love her just like, Adrian, but if her father-"_

_"Her father isn't on the other side of that wall." Zara met his gaze, finally seeing him._

_"What?" He sighed, getting up and making his way to the bed and he pulled his jacket off, tossing it towards the hamper._

_"She has no father- no family."_

_"What do you mean? Adrian?" He heard her get out of the rocking chair, and after a moment, turned to her._

_"I spoke... to one of my father's old colleagues." A moment passed, before he pulled out a newspaper clipping from his pocket, and unfolded it. "Her mother was a Holocaust survivor. Emilie... Rosenthal." Zara took it, studying the clipping; an obituary. She slowly took a seat on the bed, her gaze moving over the article, before landing on the face._

_She knew that face-_

_"And her father... was a German officer. He was killed a couple months before Emilie. She was a product of rape, Zara." Minutes passed, before she met his gaze. "Aziza is the result of a rape. And... since both her parents are dead, the only option- as far as the courts will be concerned- will be to place her in an orphanage, where she'll wait to be adopted." He shook his head. "He said that it's a good... guarantee this case won't be picked up, because the courts are going to be liquidated soon; the old judges from Hitler replaced with new ones, but he did say... if it is, by the off-chance, picked up... that... our best bet to avoid a state custody hearing would be to go through a legal, closed adoption. He said it could take a matter of months or a matter of years, depending on how quickly we do it. I told him I'd discuss it with you before doing anything... rash."_

_He chuckled softly, and then realized she hadn't been listening. "Zara?" Slowly, he took a seat on the bed beside her. "Hey, talk to me, wife. What's wrong, my love?" After a moment, she met his gaze, tears slipping down her cheeks._

_"I knew her." He furrowed a brow._

_"Who?"_

_"Iza's mother. This is Emilie." She held up the obituary, showing him the photograph._

_"I know it is." She shook her head._

_"No, husband, you do not understand."_

_"Then explain it to me, love." She bit her lip._

_"I..." She glanced at the grainy black-and-white image. "I knew Emilie at Auschwitz. She... she looked after me when we were being... processed." She swallowed, forcing herself to talk of that night- the night he was ripped from her arms, forever, she thought. "And... and when I lost our Ziva... she helped me through it... she..." She sniffled, taking a deep breath. _

_"Emilie was... Emilie was my bunk mate. And we... we worked the Crematoriums at Auschwitz..." She broke down; often, Zara had thought of Emilie, hoping she'd escaped to Israel, or had survived and made a good life for herself after liberation, but they hadn't kept in touch. But now, to discover that her friend was dead... and that she was looking after that very friend's daughter... "Adrian! I... I knew her! I knew-"_

_Adrian held her close, thinking of how cruel an irony it was, that their time in the camps seemed finally to come full circle._


	118. Chapter 118

**Rifiuto: Non Miriena**

**Thanks to sintija2001 for reviewing 116 and Reader for reviewing 117.**

_"It also gives us a very special, secret pleasure to see how unaware the people around us are of what is really happening to them."_

_- Adolf Hitler (1889 - 1945)_

_Berlin, Germany_

_1522 Freidrichschain_

_Two Days Later_

_1:00 P.M._

She found him sitting on the living room floor, surrounded by open files, piles of papers and his laptop, playing the videos again, muttering to himself. The coffeepot sat on a plate beside him, and a cup of coffee was shaking in his hand.

Clearly, he'd been up all night and all day while she'd slept in, unaware that he'd taken care of the twins.

"Tim?"

He quickly shifted a stack of paper around, before grabbing something off another pile and laying it in front of him. Slowly, so as not to scare her lover, Ziva knelt beside him, watching. He'd laid out every piece of evidence they'd collected during this case- from the files Conrad had left them, to the copies the Holocaust Museum in D.C., had given them, to the original files the Zanes had collected before their murders. He was going over each and every piece with a fine-toothed comb- whatever that meant. She still wasn't used to American idioms, even though they weren't even in America anymore.

Ziva glanced at him; she'd never seen him so... frazzled. There were the beginnings of five-o'clock shadow on his cheeks, and he had circles under his eyes. As her gaze moved to the various things scattered around him-

She picked up the small pendant on the gold chain; the portrait was etched on the front, and on the back, were the words,

_'My beloved Aziza, to remember me by. Love, Ima' _

"What are you doing?" She looked up, finally meeting Tim's gaze.

"I... I woke up and you... you were not there." She replied, tucking her legs beneath her. "I checked on the twins... they are both sound asleep-"

"I know. I... t... took care of them before you got up." Tim said, grabbing a piece of paper and quickly reading through it before setting it aside. Ziva watched him, seeing the slight tremor in his hand, the wide-eyed, startled look; she glanced at the coffee pot.

"Tim... how much coffee have you had?" He ignored her.

"There has to be some connection! Some reason as to why Adrian and Zara took off! And they didn't just take off alone- they took Aziza too! At most... that's kidnapping! They kidnapped this child and-"

She reached over, grabbing the cup from him. "You need to stop with the coffee, Tim." Once the cup was out of his hands, she sat back, watching as he continued to work on this case, struggling to put the pieces together. Gently, she laid a hand on his shoulder; he jumped, thanks to the amount of caffeine in his system. "Shh, it is just me, Tim." Slowly, she moved until she sat behind him, wrapping her arms around his neck. Instantly, she felt him start to relax, and after a moment, she pressed a kiss to his neck, breathing in his scent. His hair was still damp from his shower, and he smelled like coconut. After a minute, she whispered,

"Got a call from Mallart- said she'd be home in an hour, and that she'd look after the twins for us. So... what do you say we... go out and get something to eat? Hmm? Get away from this case for a while?" She ran a hand through his damp hair, pressing a kiss to his head.

He turned, glancing at her. "We have to figure this out... we can't... we..."

"Shh... shh, hush,_ Ahava,_ hush, Tim." Tenderly, she rested a finger against his lips, cutting him off. "The case will still be here. And if we let Mallart look through it, she may be able to find something we haven't. What is that American expression? New eyes?" She met his gaze. "Besides, we need a little time away from the case and the twins. One afternoon will not kill us."

Minutes passed, before he nodded. By the time they'd cleaned up the piles of evidence and laid it on the table and gotten chanced, Mallart had gotten home, bringing one of the agents on her team with her. "You will be okay, right?" Ziva asked, cradling her son close, Tim held their daughter, pressing a kiss to her head.

"Ziva, I'll be fine. And Wilde here has twins, so-"

"You do?" Tim asked; the older woman nodded. Evelyn Wilde, the Junior agent of the Berlin Team was two years older than Mallart- who was only about twenty-seven; Wilde's husband was German by birth, an aide to the German Chancellor. Eight years earlier, Wilde had been taken out of NCIS entirely when a case had left her in a coma in the hospital for four months; two months after getting out of the hospital, they'd tried getting pregnant, and when the results weren't what they'd hoped, they'd turned to IVF. After six failed miscarriages, they'd finally gotten pregnant, welcoming twins on the two-year anniversary Wilde had come out of her coma.

"Yep, son and daughter." Wilde replied, reaching for the little girl. Tim glanced at Mallart, who nodded.

"Evie got me through when my husband and daughter died." She swallowed. "She's quite the miracle worker." The older woman chuckled, adjusting her hold on the infant as Tim laid his daughter in the junior agent's arms.

"Nah, I just... know what it's like to suffer a loss like that. But, I also know what it's like to finally reap the rewards." She smiled at the baby, who stared up at her with wide blue eyes. "Hello, _kleine_... how are you, little one? Hmm?"

"So... let me get this straight... it's you two and Wilkins... and... who's your Leader? Anh?" Tim asked, as Ziva gently laid her son in Mallart's arms. The two women shared a glance, before Wilde shook her head.

"No. Wilkins is the Senior, I'm the Junior, Mallart here is the... the _probie_." She giggled, glancing at her partner as Mallart glared at her, shifting the little boy to her shoulder and rubbing his back. "What? You are still on probation." Mallart shook her head, rolling her eyes. "Strauss is our TL- he's the great-great-great grandson of the Macy's owners- you know, the ones that died on the Titanic? Yeah, those were his grandparents." She shifted her hold on the baby, cooing at the little girl. "No, Anh is the TL of the Seattle Team- Mike Cross is the SFA, Bet Jones is the Junior and Keavy O'Reilly is the probie. But we_ have_ worked with the Seattle sibs on more than one case, so it's easy to mix them up."

Ziva raised an eyebrow. "How?" Wilde mirrored her look.

"Seriously? Hardly anyone in NCIS actually_ remembers_ that we have a team in Seattle- they're like the Great Lakes office, only Great Lakes is bigger and they have their own office building. Seattle's office is over a coffee shop in downtown. Good coffee, bad place to put a federal agency office. And you hardly hear about either them or us, so... not that hard to attribute our cases to them and their cases to us. Difference is, we have a better satisfactory rate."

"Satisfactory... rate?" Ziva asked, glancing at Tim, who shrugged. Mallart glared at her partner.

"It's this little thing Cross and Wilde have going- which team solves the most murders in a six month period, bet type thing... stupid really..." They fell into silence, before Mallart turned to Tim. "You had something you wanted me to look at?"

"No... no real-" Tim started, not wanting to get Mallart involved, however Ziva elbowed him sharply in the stomach. "Right... Um... it's this case we've been... working on." He corrected, going to the kitchen table and grabbing the top file. "If you could just... look through it for us... we've looked through everything, haven't found much... were thinking maybe... fresh eyes..." Mallart took the file, flipping through it quickly.

"Sure. We'd be glad to help. Now go on, get out of here. Lunch is waiting. The twins will be here when you get back."


	119. Chapter 119

**Rifiuto: Non Miriena**

**A/N: I just discovered about a month ago that my great-uncle on my mother's side was illegally adopted- from what we were able to find, when his adopted parents went through with the adoption, they paid exactly $1,500 for him in 1949; he was about Aziza's age. And the thing is, his adoptive parents had no idea he'd been taken from his family- they thought they were adopting an orphaned little boy. So the price Gerda gives Adrian, is from my great-uncle's story.- Ev**

_"To a person in love, the value of the individual is intuitively known. Love needs no logic for its mission."_

_- Charles A. Lindbergh (1902 - 1974)_

Berlin, Germany

1892 Leipziger Straße

19 April, 1949

5:00 A.M.

_She awoke with a start, the sounds of gunfire ringing in her head. She struggled to get up, only to find herself lying on her stomach, Adrian on top of her, his arms around her shoulders, and his face buried in her dark hair. A moment passed, before she was finally able to slip out of bed without disturbing him, and make her way across the hall towards Aziza's room. Every step sent the floorboards creaking and her heart slamming into her rib cage. It was the anniversary of the Warsaw Ghetto Uprising, as it was now being called- and ever year, on the anniversary, she awoke at the same time to the sound and smell of gunfire and shouting in her head, sending her right back to the day that her family was ripped from her forever._

_She pushed the door open, poking her head into to the room before slipping inside. Gingerly, she perched on the edge of the bed, brushing her fingers over Aziza's cheek. The movement and shift on the bed woke the little girl, and she looked up. "Ima?"_

_"Hush, little love, go back to sleep. I did not mean to wake you."_

_"Siyut?" The child looked up at her, and Zara felt tears begin to prick at her eyes. Chava would often ask the same whenever she awoke, unable to sleep._

_"Ken, little love. It was just a siyut." The child nodded, peeking around Zara. _

_"Vati?" She shook her head. _

_"No, Vati is still sleeping. I did not want to wake him." After a moment, the child scooted over, allowing Zara to climb beneath the covers. Once she was settled, Aziza grabbed the blanket and pulled it around Zara, before snuggling into her embrace. Gently, she pressed a kiss to the woman's cheek, before cuddling close, unaware of the tears in Zara's eyes. _

_Adrian awoke an hour later to find himself alone. After checking that Zara wasn't already up, he poked his head into Aziza's room-_

_To find his wife and the little girl they were looking after sound asleep under the blankets, curled together like a mother cat and her kitten. Without a word, he leaned against the door frame, crossing his arms, watching as the two slept. He'd never seen a more beautiful sight than the one right in front of him; how he and Zara could possibly be denied such a thing as parenthood baffled him. Zara was a natural, and Aziza adored her. They were a family, no matter how they got to it- Aziza looked on them as her parents, loved them as though they were- and he suspected, that perhaps part of Zara's deep hold on the little girl was precisely because she was Emilie's child- the woman who'd helped her to survive when they were in the camps._

_Discovering months ago that Zara had a connection to the child even before he'd found her... well, that made him even more determined to make sure they kept the girl. He knew it; there was no way Zara would let Aziza go now that she knew the truth. His wife would fight the courts tooth and nail before she allowed them to put Aziza in an orphanage._

_Yes, if anyone went after the child, Zara would give up her own life to keep her. _

_After a moment, he made his way to the bed, gently tucking the blanket back around his girls, pressing a kiss to each head of dark curls. Once done, he headed downstairs, surprised to find Gerda up. "Good morning, Tante." He pressed a soft kiss to her cheek, before fixing a cup of coffee and taking a seat at the table._

_"Zara still asleep?" He nodded, as she took a seat at the table across from him. "Good." She glanced over her shoulder, before moving closer and taking his hand. "Adrian, I have to talk to you. It's about Aziza."_

_His brow furrowed. "What about her, Tante?"_

_She bit her lip, unsure of how to broach the subject. "Do you remember the night I had dinner with Ingrid?" He nodded._

_"But... what does that have to do with my wife? And-"_

_"Ingrid's husband is a lawyer with an adoption agency." He set his cup down._

_"Tante, that's wonderful! If I can talk to him then-"_

_"No, Adrian, you don't understand."_

_"What's to understand?" He cried, getting up. "If he'll draw up the adoption papers then Zara and I can-"_

_"You can't adopt Aziza." That stopped him in his tracks._

_"What?" She met his gaze._

_"Sit, Adrian, my love." Once he was seated, she took a deep breath. "I explained the situation to him, and he said that it would take... months before there would be any progress. And... I spoke to him last night, and he said that... now, there is no guarantee you would be able to adopt her. The courts are saying that she is a ward of the state, and therefore, needs to be placed within an orphanage, where she can be placed for adoption." She watched his face fall as he realized the implications of what she was saying._

_After a moment, he shook his head. "No. No! All Zara wants is to be a mother! That's all she's ever wanted, I think! And now she finally gets the chance, and it's taken away from her-"_

_"Adrian, calm down. I'm not done." He swallowed, sitting back. "Now, he did say that there is a way you can adopt Aziza- not legally, however."_

_He perked up. "How? Tante... what is it? I swear, whatever it is, whatever it takes, however much it costs, I'll do anything-" She held up a hand._

_"They call it a... black market adoption in the States."_

_"Black... Market?" He asked, cautious. Gerda nodded. _

_"You can adopt Aziza, but it will be illegal, Adrian. She will have a birth certificate and medical history falsified; it will cost, and the records will be sealed. I'm not sure how much, but-" Adrian stopped listening; his thoughts wandered back upstairs, to where his girls were curled up in bed, both sound asleep. Aziza had been the best thing to come into their lives since... well, since each other. And the fact that he was now facing the very real possibility that he could lose that little girl- the child of the woman who'd kept his wife alive in the camps-_

_Though he didn't know her, he owed Emilie so much for looking after Zara while in Auschwitz. He owed her for saving his wife, for keeping her from giving up..._

_And this, protecting, loving, taking care of and raising her daughter, was a way to repay her._

_He was aware of the risks he was taking, but the life of that little girl outweighed the risks he could possibly face. He loved her, just as Zara did, just as Gerda did... she was part of their family, and there was no way he was going to let her go..._

_"How much will it cost? To adopt her? Tante, how much?" Gerda took a deep breath, unable to believe that her nephew was actually agreeing to this. "Tante, please. All I want is to give Zara a family, to make her a mother... and if this... Tante, please." She met his gaze._

_"One-thousand five hundred." _


	120. Chapter 120

**Rifiuto: Non Miriena**

**A/N: Hey Z, did we ever give Mallart a name? **

**~ *stares at him* **

**Okay, guess not... what do you think would be a good name for a fictional character? **

_"Life is pleasant. Death is peaceful. It's the transition that's troublesome."_

_- Isaac Asimov (1920 - 1992)_

_Berlin, Germany_

_1522 Freidrichschain_

_4:00 P.M._

"That was Ziva. They are going out to dinner and a movie, said they'd be back around nine."

Wilde nodded, gave moving through the files Tim and Ziva had collected over the months on the Zane's case. She looked up when Mallart collapsed on the love seat behind her. The twins were both sound asleep, and the girls had the TV on low- a documentary on Eva Braun was playing. "You know what strikes me as _utterly_ ironic?"

"What?"

"Well, if you watch this- the majority of the people in Hitler's Inner Circle were dark- dark-haired and dark-eyed, just like him. And yet, his idea of the 'perfect Arayan race,' was blonde and blue-eyed- of which he was neither. Doesn't that strike you as absolutely..." Wilde glanced at the TV. She recognized the documentary- _In Love With Hitler_- about Eva Braun and her relationship with the dictator. The younger woman shifted, legs swinging over the arm of the small sofa.

Wilde rolled her eyes; she loved Mallart, she really did- looked on her as a little sister- but there were times she wished the woman would just shut up. But she didn't blame her, really she didn't. The woman had lost both her husband and her daughter on the same day to a horrific car crash that she herself had been lucky enough to walk away from. She'd known Mallart's husband; she'd liked him- he'd been a good fit for the woman, calming her frantic energy and reeling her in in a way her team couldn't. And when he'd died-

That had been... nearly eleven years ago, if Wilde remembered correctly- because Mallart had been recruited by NCIS as a teenager. And it had taken them months to get the woman back to a good place.

And while Mallart may have been the youngest, she was the most intelligent of the team- a graduate of MIT at fourteen, a member of Mensa since she six, a doctorate in forensic science- the girl was a certified female Stephen Hawking. But she was also the most fragile, which was probably why she'd latched onto Ziva and Tim- she missed looking after someone, and it must get awful lonely living by herself. Wilde needed to remember to invite the younger agent over more often.

She glanced at the younger woman; her eyes were glued to the screen, drinking in the words and images projected upon it, with an eidetic memory like hers, Wilde knew that in the matter of a few hours, Mallart would be reciting the entire documentary backwards, forwards, upside down and inside out without missing a beat. Because for a woman like Mallart, something as simple as recalling facts was a cakewalk. She could look at something and remember every minute detail-

"Hey Cordie, can you come look at this for me?" A moment passed, before the younger woman yanked her attention away from the documentary and clambered off the love seat, joining her partner.

"What'cha need, Cami?" She stopped as the older woman glared at her. "What?"

"You know I hate that name." Mallart shrugged.

"At least it's your _middle_ name. And you get such a sophisticated name for a first- Evelyn. I would _love_ to be an Evelyn. Instead I get stuck with Cor_del_ia. Cordelia Diane Mallart. Who wants to be named _Cordelia_?" She made a face.

"Anne Shirley wanted to be named Cordelia."

"Ugh... why?" Wilde shrugged.

"Same reason- it was sophisticated. Anyway, that's not what I wanted to talk about." She held out a file, sticking it beneath the younger woman's nose. "Look at this."

"Why?"

"So I can make sure that I'm not going insane." Giving her partner a suspicious glance, Mallart took the paper, scanning it quickly. Her eyes widened, and she looked up at Wilde. The woman smirked. "So it's not just me."

"You... _oh my God_... You can't be _serious_!"

"It's there in black and white, so I'm guessing it's true."

"How could they... how could they have_ possibly_ missed this?" Wilde shrugged.

"I don't know... maybe the birth of their children_ distracted them_, Cordie. _Honestly_. You _had_ to ask?" The younger woman waved it away.

"Right. Sorry..." She grabbed her cellphone, quickly dialing Tim's number.

"What are you doing?"

"Getting a hold of Tim and Ziva." But the other woman snatched the phone from her hand. "Hey, what was_ that_ for?"

_"They don't need to know!"_

_"Yes they do!"_

"But not right now! They have a night to themselves- they _need this_ Mallart! I know you haven't been a mother in a while, but-" She stopped, realizing what she'd said. "Oh, Cordie, I... I'm sorry. Sweetie, I didn't mean it... I-"

"It's fine. You... you're right, Evie. I haven't been a mother for a while now." She handed back the file, and got up. "Excuse me." And without a word, she dashed upstairs.

"Cordie!" She sighed, kicking herself mentally. She knew how sensitive a subject motherhood was; everyone in the team knew better than to bring it up around the younger agent. After several minutes, she got up, slipping upstairs. She found Mallart sitting on the floor outside of the nursery, holding a worn-out stuffed teddy bear that had clearly seen better days. "Cordie, I'm sorry, I never should have-"

"No, you're right." She sniffled, as Wilde took a seat beside her.

"What's that?" She nodded to the teddy bear, and Mallart let her gaze move down to the object.

"It was..._ Larkie's_..." Wilde nodded, remembering the two-year-old with the dimples and the honey-colored pigtails. Larkin Amelia had been her parents' pride and joy- until the day they'd hit ice and the car had gone careening into a telephone pole. Larkin had been in the backseat, and her husband, Nicholas, had been in the passenger- Mallart had been the one driving; the only one to survive the crash that claimed her husband and daughter, and now, even ten years later, she still hadn't forgiven herself.

Survivor's guilt, at perhaps its worst.

"Honey, I'm so sorry, but..." She swallowed, choosing her words carefully. "It's been ten years. You need to let them go. They wouldn't want to see you like this."

_"I... I don't know that I can..."_ After a moment, Wilde pulled the younger woman into her arms, letting her cry.

"Yes, you can. It just takes one step at a time. Think of... think of helping Tim and Ziva as being the first step."


	121. Chapter 121

**Rifiuto: Non Miriena**

_"We did not speak of what we had seen. At the time, to speak of it seemed worse than sacrilege: We had witnessed a thing so terrible that it acquired a dreadful holiness. It was a miracle of evil. It was not possible to say with words what we had witnessed, and so we kept it safely guarded until the time we could bring it out, and show it to others, and say, 'Behold. This is the worst thing man can do'."_

_- Irene Gut Opdyke (1918 - 2003)_

West Berlin,

Germany

11 June, 1949

_It took Adrian weeks, but eventually, he was able to pay the amount wanted for the papers- he kept it from Zara, knowing that if she found it, the most likely ending would feature his murder._

_But it didn't stay secret for long._

_He didn't remember how exactly his wife found out, but he did remember her reaction. How could he not remember her reaction?_

_"What do you mean it was illegal? Have you lost your mind?" He ducked, hearing the coffee cup shatter against the far wall._

_"Zara, love... just... hear me out-" Someway, he managed to grab her around the waist when she rushed at him, arm up to strike. "Hear me out, okay?" In a matter of minutes, he'd explained the situation, and what Gerda had told him... She wrenched away, tangling her fingers in her hair._

_"God! Adrian, my husband, I love you, but there are days when I could just kill you!" _

_"Zara... Zara, love please..." He reached for her, but she pushed him away, moving out of the kitchen. _

_"Do not touch me. I do not want to look at you... hear your voice... I do not even want to be around you right now, Adrian Fromm." And without another word, she stormed upstairs, slamming the bedroom door behind her. After she left, Gerda came out of the living room, Aziza on her hip. _

_"I'm so sorry, Adrian." He turned to her, taking the child when she reached out for him. As he settled the girl on his hip, he whispered, _

_"I did this for her... so she could be a mother..." _

_"She's upset. You haven't made this easy on her, if anything you've put her in a bad position." _

_"How? How could I possibly-"_

_"Adrian, Zara's Jewish. She spent years being looked at like nothing more than cattle, a bug that needed to be exterminated. You told me yourself that she lost her parents and her older siblings in the Uprising. And then she loses her sister and her daughter in the camps, loses any chance of having children again, nearly loses you... you have to understand, Adrian, love, that your Zara has been dealt a painful hand in life. Everything she has ever owned, everyone she has ever loved has been taken from her never to return-"_

_"But I'm still here, Tante. I'm here. She has me and you and... and Azi-"_

_"And while she loves all of us, we are not her parents, or her siblings. We are not her identity, Adrian. She had her identity taken from her- her very being. I understand that she wants to be a mother, Adrian, really, I do. But I think, the thing that Zara wants more than a child is her identity back. She wants to know that she is someone, that she matters." She reached out for Aziza. "Here. Let me take her. You go talk to your wife."_

_He knocked softly on the bedroom door, poking his head in to find her lying on the bed, facing the window. Silently, he slipped inside, shutting it softly behind him. Without a word, he took a seat on the end of the bed, studying her. __"I'm sorry, Zara. I should have... told you instead of hiding it. I should have... asked you before going along with it. I just... I know how much you love Aziza, and how much you loved our little girl and... I just... I guess I wanted to... see that light in your eyes again, for the rest of my life."_

_She shifted, letting his words sink in. "It is not... Aziza. It is not... you, husband. I... I want myself back." Slowly, she moved to face him, and when their eyes locked, he could see the tears within those beautiful brown depths. "You have your name, you have your identity... I am still, regarded as nothing more than a number..." _

_"You're my wife, Zara. You're now Azi's mother-" _

_She shook her head, sniffling. "I knew you would not understand." He reached out, laying a hand on her hip. _

_"Then explain it to me, wife. Please." _

_Slowly, the young woman sat up, pulling her feet beneath her and folding her hands in her lap. "I just..." She bit her lip, thinking, before finally shaking her head; their eyes met. "I am me, I want... I want to be me again... not a number... not a Jew... me." _

_"Oh, Zara, my wife... you are you. How can you not see that?" He asked, moving towards her on the bed. Gently, he took her face in his hand, meeting her eyes. "You aren't a Jew and you aren't a number... you're the woman I fell in love with, the woman I married... love, what I can say to convince you?" She shook her head._

_"Noth-" But his mouth was soon on hers, drinking her in deeply. Slowly, his hands moved down to work on the buttons of her blouse, pushing the soft material off her shoulders, before working on her skirt. As his hands found the soft, silky flesh of her thighs, she reached down, working on the buttons of his shirt and then his pants, helping him out of them. _

_They didn't speak, didn't discuss the past or the hell they'd gone through, didn't talk at all- instead, they made love. And as they lay in each others' arms afterwards, Adrian made sure to remind Zara that he'd never forgotten her identity. Even as he kissed each number and letter tattooed on her arm, he listed reason after reason in regards to how her being in his life had made a difference- and when he ran out of numbers and letters but not reasons, he continued, leaving kiss after kiss upon her lips. _


	122. Chapter 122

**Rifiuto: Non Miriena**

**A/N: *pulls her into embrace* Listen to this, love... **

**_'__I am so into this love story on both sides of the fence. Adrian's deep love for Zara even though she's Jewish and Tim's new found love for Ziva and his children. Both have stories of struggle and identity. Tim tenaciousness is unswervaring and Ziva's commitment to help is the same. But the true love and anguish story is between Adrian and Zara. The way he unravals layer upon layer of his wife's past and hopefully future. It takes a strong man to win her and he did and even a stronger emotional man to comfort her and love her. The mystery of what happened to them and their new found child Aziza is so heartbreaking. Just coming from Isreal and knowing so many in that country, it feels like a deep connection myself as to see what happened to three people that loved each other so much. It's wonderful how you make us all feel a part of their lives and the mystery that will unfold. More, more, more.'_ **

***kisses her cheek* ****How can you read that and _not_ want to continue writing?**

**Thanks to Reader for reviewing 118, 119, 120 and 121, and to HAZMOT for reviewing 121. **

_"One cannot and must not try to erase the past merely because it does not fit the present."_

_- Golda Meir (1898 - 1978)_

_Berlin, Germany_

_1892 Leipziger Straße_

_Three Days Later_

_10:15 A.M._

Gerda had come to expect Agent McGee on her doorstep. Their chats had become quite regular, and though he was an American, he wasn't a nuisance like most Americans- he was simply searching for information on her nephew and his wife, to close out a case and bring closure. Closure to whom, she wasn't sure. She'd come to respect the young American agent; in many ways, he reminded her of Adrian-

But he was getting dangerously close to enemy territory. Territory that he would be better not crossing into.

"I've been expecting you, Agent McGee."

He held out the pendant; Gerda accepted it, even though she longed to tell him to keep it. She had no use for it; they were never coming back.

"They adopted her; Aziza. Adrian and Zara adopted her. But not through the courts. It wasn't a legal adoption, was it?"

The older woman sighed, beckoning him to follow her. Once they were seated at the kitchen table, she asked,

"How did you find out?"

"One of the other agents found the paperwork." She nodded, sighing.

"No, it wasn't legal. It was illegal, just as many adoptions in Germany were at the time. But that doesn't mean they loved Aziza any less than if she were their own daughter." A moment passed, before she continued. "I had a friend, he was a lawyer, and he... suggested adoption. He could... falsify documents and seal records.. for a price. And Adrian-"

"Was so desperate to make her a mother, he agreed." Gerda nodded.

"He was only trying to give Zara the one thing she wanted most- a family. Ever since their daughter was taken from them... he felt responsible, because he hadn't been there to protect her. I don't think he ever fully accepted that even if he had been there, his daughter wouldn't have survived. He blamed himself, and he shouldn't have. Zara blamed herself, and she shouldn't have. She had no choice. It was out of their control. But Aziza... she gave them a second chance, to be parents, to have the family both longed for."

A moment passed, before Tim pulled out what Wilde and Mallart had discovered three nights before. He unfolded it and slid the paper across the table towards her. Slowly, Gerda picked it up, skimming the paragraphs. She choked on a sob. "Even with the adoption, Aziza became a ward of the state. The authorities were going to take her away and place her in an orphanage."

"She would have been subjected to abuse and neglect and a whole host of other things in the orphanage. Staying with Adrian and Zara was the best thing for her. They loved her, and even though her adoption was illegal, she thought of them as her parents. They were good to her, Agent McGee. She was their daughter, in every way that mattered."

"I understand that they obviously loved her, but that doesn't change the fact that the state was looking into her adoption, and they were going to take her away from them." Gerda stood, hurrying from the kitchen; she couldn't let him get too close- she'd spent too many years... she wouldn't break now. She couldn't. "The only logical explanation is that they took Aziza-"

_"Stop making assumptions for things you do not understand, Agent McGee!"_ Gerda cried, rounding on him when he caught up to her in the living room. _"You have no understanding of what they went through, of the sheer Hell they survived within those camps, of the loved ones they lost and the struggle they went through the gain back some semblance of normalcy!"_ She took a deep breath, crumpling to the sofa.

Tim sighed, going to her. Slowly, he knelt until he could meet her gaze. "I'm sorry, if I pushed, but... this case has... it's been going on for months and... and all I want to do is find them and give them a little bit of closure." He took her hands, making sure she met his gaze. "_Please_. All I want to do is find them and... and return their things... these items, they must have _meant something_ to Adrian and Zara-"

"You can't." Gerda whispered, sniffling. He watched her, before gently reaching up and wiping away a tear, feeling as though he'd done it before for the older woman, because he hated to see her-

_"Oh Tante, please, don't cry." _

Gerda caught his hand, pressing a soft kiss to his palm. "You can't return their things, Agent McGee." She swallowed thickly. "Because Adrian and Zara... they..."

"They're what?" He whispered.

"They're dead."


	123. Chapter 123

**Rifiuto: Non Miriena**

_"It gets me through the life I live."_

_- Vera Atkins (1908 - 2000), Spy for Britain's SOE_

Berlin, Germany

1892 Leipziger Straße

1 December, 1949

8:00 P.M.

_Things had gotten worse; there were shootings every day, murders of innocent East and West Berliners determined to try to reach family, no matter the side of the wall they were on. Adrian had gotten so used to printing stories about the murders that he didn't even bother checking to see whom had been murdered or if he knew them; all he knew had died during the war years-_

_So it was one evening after dinner, when they were relaxing in the living room- the radio was on and Zara was sitting on the floor in front of the fireplace, playing tea with Aziza, who was watching Zara closely and making sure she did everything right. Gerda was working on some sewing, and Adrian had his head buried in Du Maurier's latest novel, The Parasites. However, he'd spent a good majority of the time watching his wife and daughter- he still couldn't believe Aziza was finally theirs- over the top of his book; that he and Zara were finally parents, after all they'd gone through-_

_A knock at the door however pulled him from his thoughts, and after a moment, he marked his place and got up, glancing back at his family as he made his way into the foyer and answered. To say he was startled to find Ingrid and her husband at the door. He'd known them for years- they were Gerda and Wilhelm's best friends- he and his sister had even grown up calling them 'Auntie Ingrid and Uncle Peter.' "Hello, Adrian. May we come in?" _

_He nodded silently, stepping back to allow them entrance. As he led them into the living room, Zara looked up, and quickly stood, gathering Aziza to her chest. The child looked up at her, confused as to what was going on. Out of the very real, very ingrained instinct to protect those she loved, Zara held the little girl close, shielding her from whom Zara considered a threat. "You stay away, you cannot have her!"_

_"Zara, love..." Adrian rushed to her, gently, he took her face in his hands. "Hush. It's okay. They aren't for Azi. This is Ingrid and Peter- Tante's friends." He turned to the older couple. "Ingrid, Peter, this is my wife, Zara." Once pleasantries were exchanged, Ingrid and Peter let the couple know why they were there._

_"The sister of Aziza's birth father is looking to adopt her." Adrian felt his wife stiffen as he perched on the arm of the chair by the fire._

_"But the adoption is closed-" Zara replied, shifting her hold on the little girl, who, noticing the shift in Zara's tone, whimpered softly. "Shh, hush, my little love, hush." She pressed a kiss to Aziza's head, glancing at Ingrid and Peter. "You told Adrian that the records would be sealed! That there was no one looking for her! That she had no family interested in her! Was it all a lie? For these last... the last few months..." She turned her gaze to the child as realization began to sink in. She choked on a asob. "She was never really ours... has she ever been ours?" _

_"Zara-" But she shook her head, pressing a kiss to Aziza's forehead before gently pushing the child into Adrian's arms and getting up. _

_"Excuse... me..."_

_"Zara!"_

_She rushed from the room struggling to contain her tears. As the door to their bedroom closed behind her, she slid to the floor, letting her heartache take control. Why she had ever allowed herself to think that she would finally have a child, a family... when she'd lost her own to such gruesome means... she knew better than to hope. And yet, she'd allowed herself to get carried away by Adrian's promises and soft whispers._

_Slowly, she pulled the sleeve of her blouse down, exposing the ID forever staining her skin. Gently, her fingers moved over it, tracing every letter and number. These numbers had been her identity; they were all that were left of what remained of her identity- after the loss of her family, her little sister, her own daughter, yes, after the loss of everyone else- this number remained. It was all she had left of her life before and during the war. She was a number, a yellow star, a stateless person... not good enough to live among civilized Poles and middle-class Germans, certainly not good enough to be a wife and mother, let alone live-_

_She climbed to her feet, making her way towards the nightstand and tugging open the cupboard door. After rummaging around or several minutes, she found what she was looking for; the golden amber was often used for wounds- especially when medicinal supplies were so deeply rationed- and the couple made a habit to keep a bottle in the back of the nightstand cupboard, in case of burns or small cuts._

_Now, however, she uncapped the bottle, moving to perch on the edge of the bed; the sweet scent of vanilla and caramel, the slightest hint of fruit coming through at the end. A moment passed before she took a deep breath and pressed the mouth of the bottle to her lips; she tilted her head back, allowing the smooth liquid to flow down her throat. But for all the hints of sweetness, it burned on the way down, and she choked, coughing into her arm as her eyes began to water. Her nose began to run and her stomach revolted against the alcohol, but she paid it no mind; instead, she slid from the bed to the floor, leaning her head back against the blankets. _

_The rational part of her heart screamed that this was just a setback, that everything would work out in the end, like it was supposed to, however, the other half of her heart knew better and said so. Everything, from her escape from Warsaw during the uprising to Adrian finding her and Chava to her surviving the camps to finding him again, to Aziza- it was all too good to be true, and she knew better than to hope; yet she'd hoped anyway._

_Because it had gotten her through the long days working the Crematoriums, as she and others were forced to burn their own people; it had gotten her through the death of her beloved Ziva, and the struggle to recover from the camps. It had lasted her this long... and finally, it had run out._

_She choked on a sob, taking another gulp, forcing herself to her knees as she gagged it down. Why the hell had she allowed herself to fall for her husband's words, his soft whispers and gentle lies? _

_'Because he was only after one thing- like all German men were, and still are- you know that. And you, like so many Jewesses before you, fell for for his charming smile and gentle touch, because you were desperate.' _

_Zara shook her head. No, that wasn't true- and yet, she couldn't seem to make her conscience agree. _

_'Ima warned you against men like him, remember? Against falling in love with the first man you met-' _

_She covered her ears, but the whispers continued; every little thing, every little traitorous thought she'd had over the years in regards to Adrian filled her head, shoving out all the good he'd done, all the truth he'd gilled her head with, in favor of the suspicions she'd buried deep within her soul. By the time he came upstairs- two hours later- he found Zara curled up by the side of the bed, the alcohol having put her to sleep; the bottle held to her chest, the brandy left behind staining the white of her blouse. _


	124. Chapter 124

**Rifiuto: Non Miriena**

_"__... I have a duty to write because other people must know. Every hour of every day there is another painful realization that other folk_ _do not know, do not even imagine, the suffering of other men, the evil that some of them inflict. And I am still trying to make the painful effort to tell the story."_

_-_Hélène Berr _(1921 - 1945)_

_Berlin, Germany_

_1892 Leipziger Straße_

_11:00 A.M._

"What do you mean they're dead?"

Gerda swallowed thickly. He waited, giving her time to gather her thoughts. "Just what I told you. They're dead- all three of them. Killed when they tried to escape over the wall, back in fifty." Then, she stood, going to the bookcase. She pulled a book out of one of the shelves, and after a moment, pulled something out before returning to him. "I am afraid that you are chasing ghosts, Agent McGee."

He glanced at her before taking what she held out. "What's-"

"Keep it, please. My husband is dead as are my brother and his family... Henrik, Anneliese, Corinna, Adrian... Zara and Aziza... all of them, gone." She swallowed, moving into the foyer. "I am the only one left... and I have nothing but memories."

She didn't look up as Tim excused himself and left, but she watched from the window as he strode down the street before finally catching a cab. Once he was out of sight, Gerda went to the front door and locked it before slowly making her way upstairs. She slipped into the bedroom that had been theirs and shut the door softly, before turning to drink in the room around her. Their voices filled her head, their laughter rang loud in her ears. If she closed her eyes, she could feel the heat from the fireplace and smell the sweetness of Zara's rose perfume.

_"Vati, again!"_

_"No more stories, Mausi, love. You've had enough stories." _

_"How about a lullaby instead, little love, hmm? A lullaby would be better, yes?" _

_"You know just how to spoil Azi, don't you, my wife?"_

_"A lullaby is not spoiling, husband. My Ima used to sing us lullabies every night so that we would sleep with hope in our minds and peace in our hearts."_

_"A lullaby is meant to put rambunctious little girls to sleep." _

_"Vati!" _

_"Oh, off with you, husband! Shoo!" _

_"Only after this." _

_"After w-" _

_"I love the taste of your kiss, wife." _

_"Adrian!" _

Her eyes snapped open, as their voices faded; she pushed herself away from the door, making her way towards the fireplace. She knelt, and slowly, carefully, removed a loose brick from the corner by the grate. Covered in ash, it left her fingers black, not that she cared. After a moment, she set the brick aside, before reaching within the hole left behind. It took a few moments before she finally found what she was looking for.

She sat back, gaze moving over the items, tears blurring each object within her gaze. After all of this, after everything her family had suffered- after Henrik and Anneliese's capture, Cora's murder, Adrian's supposed death in Berga... after his survival, after the loss of Zara's daughter and Wilhelm's own murder in seventy-two... after everything they'd gone through, everything they'd faced-

And Agent McGee had come so close to the truth...

She'd had no choice.

The rest of her family was dead and buried within the Jewish cemetery- looked up by those within the Jewish community as members, as family members- loving tended to and cared for for the rest of eternity. Cora, Henrik, Anneliese... all had a final resting place and yet, only a select few within Germany knew of the sacrifice the Fromm family had made.

And Adrian... her beloved, only nephew... Henrik's darling son...

_"You are chasing ghosts... they are gone..." _

She had hated to lie to the young American, but for her it was true. Her family was dead, and she had not long to live.

After a moment, she returned the things to the hole and slid the brick back into place before getting up. Once she'd returned to the living room, she grabbed a pad of paper and a pen and took a seat in the armchair by the fire. Slowly, the pen scratched out what she had longed to say for years; it spoke the truth, and yet, woven within the truth were the falsehoods and outright lies she had become accustomed to telling over the decades that had passed. She wrote of the agony she'd felt at discovering the fate of her brother and his wife, of the sheer pain at the discovery of Cora's death and the panic when she'd learned of Adrian's capture and supposed death in Berga.

She spoke of how much Zara had affected her family- of how she'd first looked at the young Jewess when she and Adrian had come to stay with them, of how she'd soon seen the girl her nephew had fallen in love with, and how it had taken Zara months to overcome the never-ending agony of losing their daughter. She talked of how Zara would soon open up, telling of the house she'd been born and grown up in, of her father's wealthy business and what it had been like to grow up with the laws of what Jews could and could not do being pushed on them. She spoke of how Zara, through her tears, talked of how a simple, yellow-clothed star stole away her friends, and how the early days in the ghetto had been difficult as they watched the Germans literally wall them in.

Through pen and ink, she wrote of the sisters' escape from the ghetto, uprising and subsequent liquidation, that horrifying April morning, and how she and her sister had somehow made it from Poland to Berlin by way of sewers and shadows. Tears began to blur her vision as she wrote down how Adrian had risked his life to bring the girls home and how they'd struggled to survive after they'd been turned in; of how Zara had explained the pain of the sisters' final separation, when Chava was captured and sent to the camps and she and Adrian managed to flee into the countryside.

And finally, she wrote of the deaths of her nephew and his family, of the little girl they'd adopted and loved as their own- of how, after their bullet-ridden bodies had been pulled from the River Spree, she'd buried them in unmarked graves in the local cemetery. Once she finished the letter, she got up, going back to the desk and removing the small revolver.

With the letter signed and placed within the mailbox outside, she returned to the living room, taking a seat on the sofa. Photographs of her family surrounded her, and she told herself that she was doing the right thing.

Her gaze flicked to the photograph of Adrian and Zara within the album she'd opened; they smiled back at her, healthy, alive, in love.

She swallowed; there was a reason for the letter now; she had very little time left, as her body was ravished by disease- the cancer she'd ignored for so long finally reaching the last strands of her life-

But it didn't bother her anymore. She'd given Agent McGee all she could; it was her turn now. As she slid the barrel into her mouth, she knew she was making the right decision. Most likely, the young American would return, would try to figure out the letter once he received it, maybe even discover what she'd hidden for so long- but it wouldn't come from her.

No, she'd kept their secret for close to sixty years, and she was tired. She had determined all those years ago that she would take their secret to her grave, and as she pulled the trigger, that's exactly what she did.


	125. Chapter 125

**Rifiuto: Non Miriena**

**A/N: Anyone notice- especially with the last chapter- the pattern that seems to follow this family? Think about it... - Ev**

_"__You know, we have moments of passion when we are in pain. And then of course the moment ends, and with it the passion and the pain, and we forgive and forget. But I think that every time you hurt somebody that you care for, a crack appears in your relationship, a little weakening - and it stays there, dangerous, waiting for the next opportunity to open up and destroy everything.__"_

_- Edith Hahn Beer (1914 - 2009)__"_

Berlin, Germany

1892 Leipziger Straße

29 December, 1949

Five Weeks Later

_In the days and weeks that followed that night, they didn't speak of it; didn't mention what had caused it. And Zara, accepting the whispered kisses her conscience let loose in her mind that night, turned her back on the man she loved. She pushed him away, refused his touch and kiss, ignored his voice, so jagged was her broken heart-_

_So it was one afternoon at the end of December, three days before the new year, that Adrian finally cornered her. Standing his ground, he blocked the door, gathering his thoughts. She shoved him when he didn't budge. "Move!"_

_As she reached for the door handle, he grabbed her wrist, forcing her to wrench out of his grasp. "Not until we talk, Zara-"_

_"Talk? Now you want to talk? What about that night? You did not talk that night! You let them talk about taking her away! How could you?" _

_"You weren't there for the conversation, Zara! You didn't hear the argument- you were up here, drinking yourself into oblivion!"_

_"Have you not figured it out yet, Adrian? I am a Jew- drink is what we do." She ground out, tears coming to her eyes. _

_"It's not what my wife does-"_

_"I am not your wife! I have never been your wife! I was just... the mother of your child, that is all! I am nothing to you but another Jewish... whore!"_

_"Where is this coming from?"_

_"Do not touch me!" Her temper finally broke and she lunged at him, screaming and crying and doing as much damage as she could to his person before she finally wore herself out, collapsing to the ground. Adrian watched as the woman he loved broke down, and after a moment, he lowered himself to the floor, slowly crawling towards her._

_"Zara." She scrambled back towards the bed, climbing onto it._

_"Stay away from me... stay..." Sobs choked off her words, and after a moment of struggling to speak, she curled up on the bed, hugging her knees to her chest. Adrian swallowed, unsure of what to do or how to comfort her, when clearly, she didn't want to be touched. Minutes passed, before he got up, slipping out of the room and heading downstairs._

_He found Gerda in the kitchen with Aziza; the little girl was helping her make cookies, but instantly abandoned the project when Adrian entered. "Vati!" She climbed off the chair, rushing towards him; he knelt down, scooping her up and kissing her distractedly on the forehead._

_"Is Zara okay?" He watched his aunt wipe her hands on a dishtowel._

_"She won't talk to me. Told me I was lying and... called herself a..." He glanced at Aziza. Gerda nodded, understanding what he couldn't say. He set the child down; the little girl rushed upstairs to wash her hands of the dough and grease, leaving the adults to talk. Sighing, Gerda poured a cup of coffee and set it on the table in front of her nephew._

_"Adrian, you made a real mess of this whole affair."_

_"Not now, Tante-" He took a seat at the table, sighing, feeling like a child caught feeding the dog his vegetables under the table during dinner._

_"No, you listen, Adrian. Now if you had thought then entire thing through- this whole adoption process, from start to finish-"_

_"I understand, all right? I know I messed up! I'm trying to fix it as best I can! And the one thing I'm not going to do is let that woman take Aziza! We may have adopted her illegally, but we adopted her; we've cared for her and loved her- more than that supposed aunt ever has! She is ours in every way! And if they take her now..." He stopped, Zara's heartbreaking sobs ringing in his head. "If they take her away, then it'll kill Zara."_

_"Then you need to fix it, Adrian! You need to talk to Zara and talk to her now! You need to clear out whatever is floating around in her head- because this isn't good for either of you! You are her husband, you are all she has left of her life during the war- you fix it, now!" And without another word, she pushed the chair he was sitting in out, shoved a steaming cup of coffee into his hands and pointed towards the stairs._

_Taking a deep breath, Adrian stood, knowing she was right._

_This time when he entered the bedroom, Zara was silent; she watched as he entered, shutting the door softly behind him. Once reaching the bed, he held the cup out to her. A moment passed, before she took it, sitting up. "Zara, my love... I never meant to hurt you... I... I'm so sorry." She listened as he explained what Ingrid and Peter had told him after she'd fled; sipping her coffee and letting his words wash over her- they seemed to calm her torn heart._

_Eventually, though, something he said caught her attention and she spoke up. "What did you say?"_

_He took a deep breath. "Peter told me, that the only way we can keep Aziza without there being a custody battle, is if we get out."_

_"Get out? I... I do not understand." He met her gaze, and after a moment, reached out, taking her hand. Gently, he squeezed, before leaning over and capturing her lips in a soft, chaste kiss- sampling the waters after such a long drought. She searched his gaze; the pain her words had caused was there for the entire world to see. She'd wounded him as deeply as he'd wounded her. Slowly, her eyes closed, and she let his mouth take hers again- somehow, the coffee cup ended up on the nightstand, and they wound up on the bed, lying together atop the covers, mouths searching and rediscovering once more. _

_Eventually, she loosened her grip on his neck, laying back against the pillows; she had missed his familiar weight on her body, missed the safety of his embrace-_

_"We have no other choice, Zara. If we want to keep Azi, we have to leave West Berlin, and Germany altogether." She studied his face, brushing the tears away as they fell. "And I promise you... I will never pull something that stupid again... because it nearly cost me you... that night, it nearly cost me you..." She wrapped her arms around him, allowing him to bury his face in her neck as he clung to her. Though they were nowhere near okay in regards to this, it was a start._

_But something in his words clicked, and she asked,_

_"And... where will we go, husband?" He whispered something against her neck, sending shivers up her spine, and after a moment, she pulled away to look down at him. He'd shifted to lying on his side, and slowly, he rose his gaze to hers. For a brief, fleeting second, the pained, worried look in his beautiful blue eyes made him look like a little boy, and her heart tugged. This wasn't just her it had upset- Adrian was just as torn, and she needed to remember that. Legal or not, they were a couple, husband and wife, and they relied on each other, no matter how heated or hurtful their arguments. "Adrian," She gently traced his features, and he reached up, catching her hand as her fingers passed over his lips. Soft kisses brushed against her fingertips, and she felt herself relax. "where will we go?" _

_He met her gaze, and after a moment, bit tenderly at the sensitive pad of her index finger. It was just a small bite, didn't even break skin, but it spoke volumes of the agony he felt as causing her such unnecessary pain. Then, he slid his arms around her waist, pushing her into the blankets of their bed as he shifted his weight onto her; the feel of her relaxing beneath him screamed that he'd done the right thing, trying to fix this. _

_As his lips met hers, in a searching kiss, he whispered, _

_"Israel." _


	126. Chapter 126

**Rifiuto: Non Miriena**

**A/N: So, there's actually a family tree that goes with this- it's the only way Z and I can keep the Fromm/Hirsch families straight. - Ev**

_"I have survived them all. If there were any left, they'd be too old and weak to stand trial today. My work is done."_

_-Simon Wiesenthal (1908 - 2005), Nazi Hunter known as the Man Who Captured Adolf Eichmann_

_Berlin, Germany_

_1892 Leipziger Straße_

"Blew her brains out."

Tim looked up; Wilde had gotten the call about a suicide and upon discovering the address, had asked Tim to come- she'd picked him up at the apartment, while Mallart stayed to help Ziva with the twins. "Who?"

Wilde quickly flashed her badge, before leading Tim beneath the familiar yellow crime scene tape and into the living room. He started when he noticed who was lying on the sofa. The gun lay stiffly in her grasp, and blood and brain matter covered the window and curtain behind her. "Um... German female, a Gerda... Falk..."

He sighed. So this was how it ended- Gerda dead with a bullet in her skull- or, what was left of her skull.

Wilde nodded towards the body lying on the sofa. "The police pulled her records. She wasn't very old."

He perked up. "How old was she?"

A moment passed, before the other agent replied,

"Ah... ninety. Okay, never mind."

"Seriously?" He joined her, glancing over her shoulder at the records. "Nineteen-fourteen..."

"Doing pretty well for a woman in her nineties." He nodded, taking the records from her.

"This doesn't make sense."

"What doesn't, Tim?" Wilde tapped the end of her pen against her notepad.

"Henrik's last name was Fromm, but it says here that Gerda's maiden name was... Scholl. That... that doesn't make any sense. She was his sister-"

"Maybe she was his half-sister. You know, share one parent instead of both?" The smile quickly melted from Wilde's features. "Sorry."

Tim waved it away, distracted. He flipped through the file, skimming the medical speak until his gaze landed on one word.

_Cancer. _

"That's why she did this." He whispered, letting his hand drop to his side, the records slapping against his leg.

"Why what?" Tim met her gaze.

"Gerda had cancer. Stage four. Breast."

Wilde let the information sink in before continuing. "Seems like the gun was a better way of going." Tim nodded, handing her the records and pulling on a pair of gloves as he wandered around the room. He stopped at the desk, however, when something caught his eye. Slowly, he removed the envelope sitting on the desk, addressed to him. With shaking fingers, he opened it and removed the eight and a half folded pages, surprised that his eyes hadn't been wrong:

The letter was addressed to him.

He didn't glance at the words on the pages, instead, his mind began working through Gerda's last steps, assessing everything from the fingerprints most likely left on the paper to the blood splatter on the window and curtain. "She... wrote this..."

Wilde looked up from where she knelt gathering gunshot residue samples to see him amble across the living room, towards the tape. "Placed it in the mailbox..." He mimed slipping a letter into the mail, and then glanced back, before returning to the desk. Again, he mimed pulling open a drawer and removing a gun. "... got the gun... and then thought better of it..."

"What do you mean, Tim?" She asked, standing and joining him. He held the letter out. "She put it in the mail and then decided against it. As Mallart took the pages, he returned to the tape. "She went back out, got the letter from the mail, returned inside..."

A moment passed as he thought it over. He returned to the desk. "Placed it here, on the desk, propped against the paperweight so that I'd see it..."

He moved to the sofa. "She then, took a seat on the sofa..." He mimed placing a gun barrel in his mouth. "Put the barrel in her mouth, and-"

He shivered, hearing the resounding ring of a gunshot, as though he'd stood in the doorway and watched her. "Pulled the trigger." Wilde whispered; Tim nodded swallowing.

"If I'd known she was going to do this-" Wilde sighed, capping her pen and going to him.

"Listen to me, Tim. This isn't your fault. She was in her nineties and dying from stage four breast cancer. She was going to die anyway, this just... quickened her death. It's not your fault." She gently patted his cheek, and then pushed him towards the foyer. "Why don't you go see if you can find a will or something- maybe something that has her relative's names on it."

Without a word, Tim did as told, ducking under the tape and heading upstairs. There was nothing in the desk that held names and addresses for children, no calenders with birthdays or holidays. His feet eventually led him to Zara and Adrian's room. It was the same as it'd been when he'd been here last-

Except for the ash on the floor.

Carefully, he moved towards the fireplace, and then knelt down, being careful not to push the ash around. It had been moved; someone had been here recently. He moved towards the fireplace, reaching out and running his hands along the brick, one of the stones moved against his fingers. Carefully, he managed to shimmy the brick out of its place and set it aside. Turning on the small flashlight he'd grabbed once he'd gotten there, he leaned down, shining the small circle of light into the dark space. Something glimmered in the light, and Tim set the flashlight down, reaching in.

After several minutes, he managed to wrap his hand around something, and he quickly pulled them out. Silently, he stood, gathering what he'd found and leaving the room. He had known Gerda was hiding something from him; now, all he had to do was put the final pieces together.


	127. Chapter 127

**Rifiuto: Non Miriena**

**A/N: **

_"I look at the good. When you are relaxed, your body is always relaxed. When you are pessimistic, your body behaves in an unnatural way. It is up to us whether we look at the good or the bad. When you are nice to others, they are nice to you. When you give, you receive."_

_- Alice Herz-Sommer (1903 - 2014), Pianist and Holocaust Survivor_

Berlin, Germany

1892 Leipziger Straße

_Had she really heard him correctly? Had he said... Israel?_

_She gently pushed him away, meeting his gaze. "What's wrong, Zara?" She took a deep breath, pushing herself to a sitting position and sitting back against the headboard. "Look, I know I messed up, but... I swear to you, I'm gonna do everything I can to make it right." He took her face in his hands, leaning down to kiss her, when she laid her fingers against his lips._

_"Are you serious?" He pulled back._

_"About what?"_

_She licked her lips, her bottom lip getting caught between her teeth. "Israel. Are you really serious?" He studied her face, drinking in the fear in her eyes, and after a moment, he nodded._

_"Yes. Peter said that... if we stay... Emilie's sister will go to the courts, and that... it is highly likely that she will win. So... the only way we can even hope to keep Azi..."_

_"Is to... run away." Zara finished, and he nodded, chuckling. Her brow furrowed. "What is funny?"_

_"Nothing. I just..." He met her gaze. "We have spent the majority of our lives running. Haven't you noticed that? We've run from the Gestapo... we've run from Jew hunters... we've run from... death more than once..." He shook his head, laughing. "We've spent the majority of our lives, our relationship, running from something... and now we're doing it again!" Zara let it sink in; he was right, the majority of their time together had been spent fleeing from someone- _

_She giggled, her nose wrinkling. "No, you... you are right... we... we have been..." A moment passed, before he stretched out on his side, propping himself up on his elbow. Silence filled the room, only the crackling of the fire in the grate breaking it with the occasional pop and sizzle. Their gazes locked, both searching for the same thing and finding it; he reached up, caressing her cheek. Her lips soon found his as she leaned down, catching his mouth with hers. As she pulled away, she reached out, letting her hand trail down his side, finding, even through his clothing, the hard, comforting planes of his body. She leaned down, kissing him again as her hand moved along his waist, stealthily undoing his slacks. He broke the kiss this time._

_"You little imp." She bit her lower lip, trying to play innocent. He didn't say a word as he pulled her into his arms, kissing her deeply as he pushed her onto the bed and pinned her down. "All you had to do was ask." She let out a breathy giggle as he proceeded to kiss his way down her body, undoing and removing her blouse as he did so. Soon, they were touching and caressing and giving in to the passion that had held them within its grip from the moment they met. _

_Hands roamed over smooth skin, mouths drank and tasted, heartbeats worked together in a duet it never tired of playing- she tangled a hand in his hair as they joined together, that familiar rhythm once more taking control. "Adrian-" She squirmed pleasantly under his touch, enjoying the feel of him as he moved deeper inside her; she caught his mouth in a kiss that told him all was forgiven, that they were okay, that she was sorry for ever doubting him, sorry for ever believing that he could cause such harm-_

_"Oh, Zara-" He slid a hand up her thigh, holding her closer. His touch was gentle, tender a deep-felt apology for the rashness of his actions, for getting her mixed up in something she shouldn't have been, his wife was precious, he saw that now- _

_He soon found himself lying on his back on the bed, her long dark hair down around her face, curtaining them off from the rest of the world as they drank hungrily from each other. Eventually, they shifted positions, and as they soon cried out for each other, she reached up, covering his face with her hands as she often did when they had sex. As they came down from their high, he leaned down, catching her lips in his. With a pleasant buzz working its way through their bodies, Adrian gently pulled out of her and settled on his side, studying her._

_She was a goddess, Venus in the flesh, with olive skin and dark eyes that searched within his soul. She lay on her back, hands folded on her belly as she caught her breath, her gaze moving over him just as his was moving over her. She was unashamed in her sexuality, in her body, and as she lay beside him, skin warming thanks to the heat in the room- from both the fire and their carnal activities- she met his gaze boldly. Any shame she'd carried before now had been lost in the camps. He could only imagine what she looked like as a child, with that long dark hair pulled back in braids- and the image brought a smile to his face._

_"What are you smiling at, my beautiful husband?" She whispered, reaching up and brushing her fingers along his jawline. He caught her hand, kissing her fingers, before,_

_"Just the beautiful woman I'm lucky enough to call my wife." She smiled at him, sliding her hand around his neck and tugging him down to her. Her hands roamed, delving over skin and muscle, finding familiar areas and rediscovering areas forgotten with time. However, he stopped her when she wandered too far. "We need to talk, Zara." She sighed, nodding. And without another word, he got up, getting dressed._

_"Are you serious? About Israel?" He sighed as he finished getting dressed, turning to her as he searched for his shirt. She was sitting up, and had his shirt in her arms._

_"Of course I'm serious about Israel, Zara, my love." He replied, placing a hand on either side of her body on the bed and leaning down until they were nose to nose. He kissed her chastely, before pulling away and reaching for his shirt, but she shook her head, holding it close. He sighed, nudging his nose against hers, deciding to play along. "Unless you would rather stay here and allow the courts to take Azi away from us," He kissed her again, trying to steal the shirt back, but she refused to let it go. _

_"It's the best..." His chaste kisses ended when she deepened the last kiss, reaching up and caressing his cheek. "solution..." She caught his mouth again, her tongue eagerly exploring all the crevices of his mouth. "for us to..." She moved her kisses to his neck, occasionally returning to his mouth for a deep, searching kiss before returning to his skin. "keep our..." Slowly, he reached for the shirt, managing to get a hold of it as she drank him in once more. A game of Tug-o'-War began; he broke the kiss briefly, "Let... go..." _

_But Zara just shook her head, deepening the kiss. She didn't know why, but there was no way she was giving him back that shirt. Instead, through the kisses, she turned the conversation back on him. "Best... solution to... what... my... husband?" That caught him momentarily off guard as he had to remember what they'd been talking about before she distracted him; it was enough of a distraction that he released the shirt, allowing her to put it on by the time he realized what she'd said. He pulled away, opening his mouth to speak-_

_"You little-" She raised an eyebrow as she pulled her hair out from beneath the collar; it fell down her back like a waterfall, beckoning for Adrian to tangle his fingers in it. Once done, she relaxed, pushing the sleeves up her arms. He caught sight of the numbers on her arm- a reminder, just like his, of the hell they'd survived- and after a moment, he sighed. _

_She watched him, waiting. He studied her; it was highly evident that his shirt was way too big for her- it came to mid-thigh on him, which meant on her, it moved past mid-thigh, probably straight to mid-calf, and it covered all but a thin slice of the skin between her breasts when open. He chuckled softly. "You are not wearing a shirt, you are wearing a dress. Ow!" _

_She gave him a look as she pinched him, turning up her nose and lifting her chin. "I like it. I think it looks good on me." _

_"You don't know what it looks like on you. You can't see yourself." She reached over, grabbing his arm. "Ow! Would you stop that? You know I hate it when you do that!" _

_"What is the solution best for, Adrian?" She asked, tilting her head up to meet his gaze. _

_"Can I get my shirt back first?" She pretended to think, before shaking her head. He sighed, realizing there was no way around it. As he slid his arms around her waist, and pulled her close, he studied her face, whispering, "To keep our family together." Then, he proceeded to kiss her deeply enough to distract her so that he could pull his shirt from her body. _

_"Adrian!" _


	128. Chapter 128

**Rifiuto: Non Miriena**

**Thanks to Reader for reviewing 122, 123, 124, 125, 126 and 127.**

_"…people in extreme situations can behave completely differently from the way they usually do. No one can know how he would himself behave. Many who give the impression of being strong might allow themselves to become discouraged, and weak ones might become heroes."_

_- Schoschana Rabinovici (1932 - ), Holocaust Survivor_

_Berlin, Germany_

_1522 Freidrichschain_

Ziva looked up as the whirlwind that was her lover came into Mallart's apartment, dragging Wilde behind him. "I_ really_ don't see what the big deal is, Tim, it's just a few rusty-"

"It's everything, Wilde, don't you get it?" The other agent shrugged, shaking her head.

"Hey, what's going on?" Mallart asked, as she laid the sleeping little boy in the Moses basket by Ziva's feet. The young mother gently adjusted her hold on the little girl in her arms as she sat nursing, drinking in the footage from the old home video that she and Mallart had put in to try to glean more evidence from.

"Tim?"

He looked up from his argument with Wilde, turning to Ziva. "Gerda killed herself."

"Oh, God, that's horrible." Ziva and Mallart shared surprised looks, before turning back to the two agents. "But... what does that have to do with the case?"

"That's what I'd like to know." Wilde replied before Tim could explain.

_"Will you just shut up and let me talk?"_ Crying soon started, and Ziva turned to glare at him.

_"Can you not keep your voice down, Timothy?"_ She growled; Tim sighed, shoving whatever he'd found into Wilde's arms and moving around the sofa towards the basket. On instinct, he knelt down, scooping the crying little boy into his arms and holding him against his shoulder.

"Shh, hush my little love, hush." A moment passed as he quickly removed his jacket and unbuttoned his shirt- both Tim and Ziva had learned early on that the sound of their heartbeats often calmed the twins when they were fussy or upset. Once he'd unbuttoned his over shirt, he shifted the little boy to his chest; as soon as the little boy felt his father's skin and heard the beating of his heart, he began to calm. Tim continued to walk around; the motion soon soothed the baby, and even once he was quiet, Tim kept moving, preferring to be safe than sorry.

Ziva watched him as she finished nursing and gently removed their daughter from her breast. When the baby was content, she stood, excusing herself upstairs to lay the little girl in her crib. When she returned, she reached for their little boy; gently, Tim laid the infant in her arms, pressing a soft kiss to Ziva's lips before going to the kitchen, where their evidence lay. Wilde was sitting at the table, looking over everything he'd found that afternoon. Sighing, Tim poured a couple cups of coffee and set one in front of her before taking a seat beside her.

"So, explain." He shrugged, sipping his coffee.

"Well, according to her medical records, she and Henrik shared the same mother, but separate fathers-"

"So they were half-siblings." Wilde concluded, getting up. She wandered over to Mallart's writing desk and came back with a sketch pad and a couple pencils.

"What are you going to do with that? Draw out the evidence?" She met his gaze.

"Ever heard of a family tree?" He rolled his eyes, turning his gaze to the letter Gerda had written him. Wilde waited for him to start reading, pencil poised.

"_'My Dear Agent McGee, _

_You must understand that I write this to you not because I choose to, but moreso because my hand has been forced in a way I never believed it could be-'_" As he read, both Mallart and Ziva joined them at the table, cups of coffee in their hands. They were silent as they listened, with only Tim's voice and the soft scratching of Wilde's pencil to break the occasional silence.

"_'You see, Henrik is not my brother- he is my half-brother, born seventeen years before me, in eighteen-ninety-seven. Our mother, Eva Garvner, lost her first husband- Henrik's father- in the nineteen-ought-eight cholera pandemic. After an appropriate mourning period of two years, she married my father, Adolf Scholl, a distant cousin to the now famous Scholl siblings of the White Rose.'_" Tim met Ziva's gaze, and she swallowed.

"So... Adrian had a connection to Sophie and Hans even before he was born." Ziva whispered; Tim nodded, before continuing.

"_'My birth followed in nineteen-fourteen, the year of the Great War's beginning. Four years later, my father was killed on the Western Front, at the Battle of the Marne, leaving my mother with a child to raise alone; by then, Henrik was at university, engaged to be married to the daughter of an ammunition manufacturer-'_"

"Anneliese." Ziva clarified; he nodded, watching as she finally pulled out the portrait of Henrik and Anneliese.

"_'By the time the Second War broke out, Henrik and Anneliese had two small children, Adrian and Corrina, born four years apart, and I myself was blessed with a marriage and a son, Michael, born in thirty-eight. However, my son lived but two months, passing in August of thirty-eight, two years before our own mother passed, in forty.'_" He and Wilde shared a glance. "I didn't... know she had a son. She never-"

"Sometimes, the tragedy is too much to bear; it's easier to keep it hidden than to think of it." She replied, glancing at Mallart, who squirmed uneasily under her gaze. She then turned back to her work. "Go on." He sighed, searching for where he'd left of.

"_'By the time America joined the war, Adrian had left university, returning to Berlin. It was at this point that he met Zara and her younger sister. As you very well know, our Adrian opposed the war and Hitler's regime, and so, in an effort to do what little good possible, he hid the girls in the wall of their home. This, however, led to their discovery, and the arrest of my brother and his wife in forty-four._ _They kids managed to flee, surviving for weeks in the ruins of various Berlin neighborhoods- Corrina's death came in late forty-four, at the hands of a Nazi. You know that my nephew and his wife survived the camps; that Zara lost her sister- however, you do not know that Eva died in January fort-five, of Typhus._ _You by know also know that they had a daughter together- a little girl that died at birth, within the hospital wards of Auschwitz-Birkenau, nineteen-forty-five. And you know about Aziza, the child they illegally adopted in the years after the war...'_"

Everything stopped at the crying coming over the baby monitor. With a soft nod, Tim got up, rushing upstairs; Ziva and Mallart, meanwhile, gathered around Wilde, to see what she'd been working on. "A family tree." Ziva whispered, gaze moving over every name.

"Yeah, but it's unfinished." Mallart whispered.


	129. Chapter 129

**Rifiuto: Non Miriena**

_"No one ever said anything about it. I remember thinking that they probably didn't realize how many I actually issued."_

_- Chiune Sugihara (1900 - 1986)_

Berlin, Germany

1892 Leipziger Straße

7 January, 1950

6:30 A.M.

_They started planning not long after the new year. Soft conversations after dinner, or during breakfast in the morning, on the way to work or as they got ready for bed. Though they kept their plans a secret from Gerda, at night when they lay together in bed, they would talk about the best way to escape-_

_So it was one morning, not long after the new year, that Zara awoke to feel his arms sliding around her waist from behind. He pressed a kiss to her neck, and she relaxed. "I have an appointment at nine-thirty today." _

_She shifted onto her back to find him propped up on his elbow, watching her. "But it is Saturday. I thought we were going to take Aziza ice skating today." _

_He chuckled, reaching out and trailing a finger along her jawline. "We can still do that. This meeting should not take that long." Then, he leaned down, capturing her lips in a soft kiss before he got up. She sat up, confused._

_"Where are you going?" He turned, going back to her. _

_"I'm going to take a quick shower. That okay, or would you care to join me?" She grinned, kissing him quickly before climbing out of bed and following. _

_It was common for them all to sleep in on Saturdays, however, whenever Adrian had something going on, he was always up at about six or so. Which meant he usually got Zara up too, since she couldn't seem to sleep without him beside her. Soon, they shut and locked the bathroom door behind them, giving themselves privacy in an already quiet house. As Adrian started the shower, Zara slid her arms around his waist, reaching up and working on the buttons of his pajama top. Steam soon began to fill the room, and their lips met as they proceeded to remove their pajamas and they stepped beneath the shower head. _

_Her lips found his as the water rolled down their skin, leaving goosebumps in its wake. It wasn't often that they shared a shower, but the shower was the perfect way to discuss their plans without the possibility of Aziza waking up and interrupting them. He pulled away from her, resting his hands on her hips. "Where are you meeting him?" He kissed her softly, nudging her nose with his before he pulled away and began washing his hair. _

_"Our cafe." Zara took the shampoo from him, meeting his eyes as he finished washing and rinsing his hair. _

_By the time they finished showering and had returned to their room, Zara had exhausted all questions, leaving only silence. Once dressed, Adrian turned; he watched her dress, seeing the muscles of her back shift and contract with each movement. Slowly, he moved towards her, sliding his arms around her waist once he got close enough. She stopped, glancing over her shoulder at him. Without a word, she reached down, resting a hand over his. "It's just a meeting, Zara, love. We're just going to talk to him, nothing more." _

_"Promise, Adrian?" _

_He nodded, pressing a kiss to her head. "Promise. Nothing is set in stone. And I won't make any rash decisions without you there," He kissed her head. "to make them with me." She gave him a soft smile, catching his lips in a soft kiss. He squeezed her waist, eventually pulling away and allowing her to finish dressing. Once done, they checked on Aziza and headed downstairs, fixing the coffee and leaving a note for Gerda, explaining that they'd gone out for a walk and would be back in time for lunch. _

_Zara stood back on the step and watched as Adrian quickly locked the door, the skirt of her snug, light green dress rustling in the light breeze. The light, tan jacket she wore came down to her hip, the buttons shiny black, and she'd pulled on her gloves, though she was planning on using her husband's warmth to keep the winter chill away. When he turned to her, he chuckled, taking her outstretched hand and sliding it through the crook of his arm as they fell into a steady walk, nodding to neighbors or acquaintances as they passed. _

_"Are you sure we can trust him, husband?" Adrian squeezed her hand as they walked down the sidewalk to their usual cafe. He met her gaze, giving her a soft smile. "How do we know he won't turn us in?" Adrian sighed, leaning his head down to whisper in her ear._

_"Of course we can trust him, Zara. Look, the man I talked to a couple days ago said that this man is the best at what he does. He's the man that helped to set up the underground." It was common knowledge in certain circles that the underground escape system had taken its name from the American's 'Underground Railroad' during the American civil war; however, unlike its American namesake, the German underground had been started by those on both sides of the wall- desperate to get to family and loved ones on either side- whom were tired of the conventional ways of trying to escape. "When have you ever doubted- don't answer that." He quickly amended when she opened her mouth._

_ Eventually, they reached the cafe, and headed inside. Zara looked around, searching for whomever Adrian had contacted about escaping-_

_"I do not see-"_

_"There he is." He cut her off, leading her to a table at the back of the cafe. When they reached the table in question, Adrian spoke up. "Well, we're here. Now, what is the escape route you have for-" Zara glanced around, nervous; it wasn't uncommon for people to be eavesdropping on those that spoke of fleeing the west for the east-_

_Slowly, the man stood, turning towards them. Both Adrian and Zara's mouths dropped in shock. However, it was Zara that recovered, stepping forward. _

_"C... Conrad?"_


	130. Chapter 130

**Rifiuto: Non Miriena**

**A/N: Here's the family tree- or, well, I tried... - Ev**

_"Memory is a passion no less powerful or pervasive than love. What does it mean to remember? It is to live in more than one world, to prevent the past from fading and to call up the future to illuminate it. It is to revive fragments of existence, to rescue lost beings, to cast light on faces and events and to drive back the sands that cover the surface of things, to combat oblivion and to reject death..."_

_- Elie Wiesel (1928 -)_

_Berlin, Germany_

_1522 Freidrichschain _

_Two Days Later_

"They _lied_ to us! They_ blatantly_ lied to us!"

"Oh Timothy! Have you considered that maybe they lied to us for good reason?" Ziva sighed, pouring a cup of coffee and taking a sip. Both Mallart and Wilde were at work, leaving Tim and Ziva at Mallart's apartment, to go over the evidence they'd collected. That evidence- along with Wilde's family tree- currently lay scattered about the living room floor, pushed into haphazard piles. The twins, now nearly a month and half old, were both upstairs in their crib, sound asleep.

After a moment, both took seats at the table. "Good reason? No one lies for a good reason."

"Unless that reason will keep them or someone they love alive." He met Ziva's gaze, sighing.

"Fine. There is that." Setting down his cup, he reached over, grabbing the sketchbook and studying the family tree Wilde had drawn up.

_Peter Fromm = Eva Garvner = Adolf Scholl_

_(1875 - 1908) (1877 - 1940) (1876 - 1918)_

"So... Adrian's grandmother, Eva, was married twice. First, to Peter Fromm, eighteen-ninety-four until nineteen-oh-eight, when Peter died from cholera. Henrik was born in eighteen-ninety-seven, so that would have made him... eleven when his father died. And Gerda says in her letter that her mother was in mourning for two years..." He scanned the letter and then the records they'd received upon Gerda's death. Now that she was gone, the records of her family that Gerda had kept hidden were opened- given to Tim and Ziva to help with their case. "So, after the two year period, she married Adolf Scholl, which would make that... nineteen-ten... and Gerda was born four years later, in fourteen."

His gaze moved down to the next branch of the tree- Henrik and his sister and their respective spouses; in the center between Henrik and Gerda, Wilde had jotted something down, with an asterisk beside each name.

_Anneliese Behr = Henrik* half-siblings *Gerda = Wilhelm Falk _

_(1899 - 1945) (1897 - 1945) (1914 - 2004) (1910 - 1972)_

"Henrik and Gerda are half-siblings, separate fathers, same mother... growing up seventeen years apart... at that point, Henrik and Anneliese are engaged... by nineteen-twenty-three, they're living in Berlin... at which point, Adrian is born... followed by Cora in nineteen-twenty-seven-" Ziva turned to him, studying brow furrowed.

"What?"

"You called her Cora. You never call her Cora, she has always been Corrina."

Tim stopped arranging photographs and evidence, meeting her gaze. "So?" She raised an eyebrow.

_"Cora." _

_"Why, love?" _

_"Mummy, easier-"_

_"'It's easier than her name.'" _

"Easier than... saying Corrina?" He shrugged, as Ziva rolled her eyes.

"And then, Gerda and Wilhelm have a son, Michael in thirty-eight, who only lives two months..." He glanced at the family tree. "It's in forty-three that Adrian and his family hide Zara and Chava; they're discovered nearly a year later and Anneliese and Henrik are captured and sent to the camps."

"And the kids flee." Ziva filled. "At one point, Corrina is shot and killed, but the others manage to escape, until about..."

"Late forty-four, when Chava and Conrad are captured; Adrian and Zara manage to flee into the countryside."

"And meanwhile, Chava and Conrad are taken to the camps- Chava perishes and Conrad survives-" Ziva added, shifting things around.

_Zara Hirsch = Adrian* siblings *Corrina _

_ (1925 -?) (1923 -?) (1927 - 1944)_

"We know that, at some point in nineteen-forty-five, Adrian and Zara married; Zara gets pregnant late forty-four, and after they're captured and sent to Auschwitz where they're promptly separated. Adrian is sent to Berga, and Zara is left at Auschwitz."

Ziva pulled over Adrian's ring and Zara's locket, lying them together with the diary. Adrian's bicycle- twisted and mangled- lay at the other end of the puzzle, with the information they'd received about the village roundup. "They have a daughter," Ziva added, pulling out the diary and setting it near what they'd gathered on Auschwitz. "Named Ziva, who died at childbirth." She swallowed, glancing towards the stairs, where the nursery was upstairs. She couldn't imagine losing a child-

"After the war, they found each other again and lived with Gerda and Wilhelm until the Berlin Wall was built, trapping Wilhelm on the East. In forty-six, Adrian found a little girl and brought her home- Aziza, who, according to Gerda, they adopted in forty-nine." Tim glanced at Wilde's tree- she'd written_ 'siblings'_ between the two girls' names- signifying Aziza's adoption.

_Ziva* 'siblings' *Aziza_

_(1945) (1946 -?)_

"From late forty-nine on, there's nothing on any of them." Ziva opened her mouth to say something, when one of the twins started to cry. She sighed, gently patting his cheek before getting up. Once she was gone, Tim turned to the trinkets he'd found hidden in the fireplace. They were small, old, fragile. He'd placed them in little baggies as soon as finding them, worried they'd rust away in the open air. Carefully, he studied each, searching for anything that would give him a clue as to where they'd disappeared to, but in all honesty, they didn't make any sense.

A compass, the glass over it cracked; a small prayer book, the cover scratched and the pages yellowed, a handful of small photographs, a sheet of paper with German writing on the front and a list of names on the back, and a letter, addressed to Gerda.

They were_ obviously_ important, but the thing Tim couldn't figure out, was why she'd hidden them.


	131. Chapter 131

**Rifiuto: Non Miriena**

**Thanks to Reader for reviewing 128, 129 and 130. **

_"Heroes do extraordinary things. What I did was not an extraordinary thing. It was normal."_

_- Irena Sendler (1910 - 2008)_

Berlin, Germany

9:00 A.M.

_"Hello, Adrian." He chuckled at the shock in Adrian's blue eyes. "You look as though you've seen a ghost." He then turned to Zara. "Hello, Zara." She choked on a laugh, going to him and throwing her arms around his neck._

_"What are you doing here?" Instantly, he wrapped his arms around her waist, hugging her firmly._

_"Living." He pulled away, studying her. "You look well, Zara."_

_"So do you." He pressed a kiss to her cheek, before turning to his best friend._

_"Are you just going to stand there?" A moment passed, before Adrian went to his old friend, embracing him. "You look good, Ad."_

_"I thought you'd..." Conrad shook his head as they parted._

_"No. The Nazis tried, but they didn't succeed. I thought the same about you." He chuckled, shaking his head. Once they were all seated, he asked, "So, what has been happening since the war ended?" The couple shared a glance, before Zara spoke up, climbing to her feet._

_"I will be right back." She brushed a quick kiss to Adrian's lips and smiled at Conrad before slipping off to the restroom. Both men watched her go, before Conrad finally broke the silence._

_"In all the years I've known you, Adrian, you were the last one I ever thought would fall in love." He chuckled, but then noticed the faraway look in his friend's eyes. "You still love her, don't you, Ad?"_

_"Love her?" Adrian chuckled softly. "I married her." Conrad raised an eyebrow, surprised._

_"Well congratulations. When?"_

_Adrian sighed. "Not long after you and Eva were captured in the roundup. "About..." He thought a moment. "six months later, I guess. Self-uniting, not that any court will ever acknowledge our marriage." He picked up the coffee brought once they'd sat down. "She had our daughter three months after we were taken to Auschwitz and separated. She... didn't survive. Stillborn."_

_Conrad reached out, patting his friend's hand. "I'm sorry, Ad. I can't imagine-" But Adrian shrugged._

_"One of them had to survive. Honestly, I'm just glad I didn't lose them both." He shook his head. "I was sent to Berga-"_

_Both men looked up as Zara returned. Once she settled between the men, Adrian turned the conversation back to the reason they were there. She reached up, slipping her hand into Adrian's on the table, and it was then that Conrad's gaze moved to their hands. "No court will acknowledge us as a married couple." She sighed, glancing at Adrian. "Adrian keeps telling me he wants to place a ring on my finger, but I do not need a ring to know that he is my husband. Or to know that he loves me." He gave her a small smile, bringing her hand to his lips and pressing a kiss to her knuckles._

_Conrad watched his best friend, seeing a light in his eyes that had been lost with the beginning of the war. He was happy for Adrian, he truly was, but he couldn't help the twinge of heartbreak- for he'd loved Cora as much as Adrian loved Zara, despite the age difference between the two. And though Conrad had dated other girls over the years, Cora had always held his heart- to learn of her death that day in the German countryside had near destroyed him. He had loved Cora from the first, and always would._

_"So," Zara's voice brought him from his musings, and he turned to see the young woman he'd helped his best friend hide from the Gestapo lift her cup and take a sip. "What is your plan?" The question momentarily caught Conrad off guard, as he'd been so caught up in their previous conversation._

_"Adrian tells me that you had a little girl. Congratulations, and... I'm so sorry for your loss." Zara started, before a sadness began to fill her eyes._

_"Thank you." She whispered, setting her cup down._

_"That's... mainly why we're here, Con." Adrian said. He glanced at Zara, who reached out and took his hand, squeezing gently. Taking a deep breath, Adrian leaned towards his friend. "We... Zara and I..." He glanced at his wife._

_"I won't say a word, Ad, you know that." Conrad replied. He didn't miss the worried glance Adrian threw his wife. Clearly, he'd heard the same words recently. "Adrian," He leaned forward, prompting Zara to follow, so only the three could hear. "You've known me for how long? I kept Eva and Zara a secret when it was beneficial to turn Jews in. What possibly makes you think I would turn my back on you now?" _

_A moment passed before Adrian sighed. Conrad had a point. He felt Zara squeeze his hand in reassurance, even as she leaned close. "You have known Conrad a long time, my husband. Since you were children; he helped protect Chava and I. He cared for Chava as long as he could... he looked after Cora when he had the chance... we can trust him with Aziza." He met her gaze. "Were it our Ziva, would you not trust him with her?" Her soft whisper brushed against his cheek, and after a moment, he nodded, which brought a small smile to Zara's lips._

_"We... adopted a little girl." Adrian whispered, glancing at his best friend. Conrad raised an eyebrow. "Aziza. Her mother was a woman that Zara knew in the camps, and she was killed trying to get across the wall... her adoption was illegal, and now her aunt is trying to take the case to court, when she showed no interest in Aziza after her mother was killed. We've been taking care of her for nearly two years. She's our daughter, in every way that matters."_

_Conrad listened as they explained the situation, keeping his thoughts to himself. Finally, he asked,_

_"So... what exactly do you want to do? And... why do you need me?"_

_Adrian took a deep breath. "We've decided... that we're going to escape."_

_"To where?"_

_"Israel. But we need to get over the wall somehow." Conrad nodded, understanding._

_"And that's where I come in." Adrian's smile was as genuine as the day they'd met._


	132. Chapter 132

**Rifiuto: Non Miriena**

**Thanks to Reader for reviewing 131.**

_"I could never accept that I should be killed for what I happened to be born as, and decided to give the Germans a better reason for killing me."_

_- Anita Lasker-Wallfisch (1925 -), Holocaust Survivor_

_Berlin, Germany_

_1522 Freidrichschain _

_A Month and a Half Later _

By the time Tim and Ziva returned to the case, a month and a half had passed, and they'd fallen into parenthood a little easier. It was still the constant ups and downs, the midnight feedings and seemingly endless hours of rocking, changing and calming as was normal with babies, but they had a routine now. With the twins being almost three months old, it meant that Tim and Ziva weren't constantly rushing to check on them, and they would often lay down a couple blankets and then lay the babies on their backs, dangling baby toys in front of them or tickling them.

"I really don't understand how they could just lie like that. It doesn't make any sense. It's almost as if they didn't want the case to be solved."

"What are you doing?" He looked up as Ziva entered the bathroom, leaning against the door frame, arms crossed over her chest. He met her gaze. "Giving one of our little loves a bath?" She asked, moving away from the door and joining him. She'd given their little boy a bath earlier, when Tim had been on the phone with Gibbs, updating him on what had transpired since they'd last talked. As Tim gently lifted the little girl out of the small tub and wrapped her in a towel, Ziva asked,

"Were you... discussing the case with our daughter?" The blush on his cheeks was evidence that he had been. "Tim, I doubt she will understand you. She is only three months old." He shrugged, settling their daughter against his shoulder and rubbing her back.

"Well, it was nice to discuss the case with someone who hasn't heard it a thousand times." He replied, kissing her quickly as Ziva reached out and took their daughter.

"I will put her with her brother; maybe they will both be willing to nap together." She said, brushing a kiss to her daughter's head before leaving the bathroom. Once everything was cleaned up, Tim headed downstairs, pouring a cup of coffee and going back into the living room, where they'd laid out the evidence on the floor. After a moment, Tim picked up Gerda's letter.

"_'... You must understand, Agent McGee, that Zara had spent almost her entire adult life running from something- she knew nothing other than to run, to hide from those that wanted her and every one of her religion dead. Zara did nothing wrong; her only crime at the time of the war, was being born Jewish. She had grown up looking after her younger sister, and when they were separated during the roundup, it nearly killed her, knowing that her baby sister most likely wouldn't survive.._.'"

Tim sighed, setting the letter down briefly and turning to the objects. His fingers found the small bag of photographs. After opening the bag, he gently removed the photos, spreading them out on the floor before him. They were old sepia-colored photographs, of men in waistcoats with handlebar mustaches and women in corseted dresses and fancy hairstyles, infants in white dresses, little boys in shorts with long hair and little girls holding dolls and wearing big bows all stared stoically at the camera, as though they didn't know what to do. Many appeared to be from the early turn of the century.

He pulled one out of the pile, studying it.

It was a sibling portrait; similar to the famous nineteen-oh-six photograph of the four Romanov daughters, however, the children within it were all in their teens- with the exception of the youngest. The two oldest children- a boy and girl, both between the ages of twenty and eighteen- sitting together on the top front steps of a home, and on the bottom two steps, sat the two younger children, hip to hip- both girls, one about fourteen, the other about six. It was clear they were Jewish, and that they lived in a wealthy part of whatever town they'd lived in, as evidenced by their clothing.

Slowly, Tim studied it closer, realizing something. The older girl sitting on the bottom step looked familiar-

He quickly dug around for the thing Gerda had given him the day she died. He pulled out the photograph, studying it before setting both photographs side-by-side on the floor. The girl sitting on the steps in the first photograph was the exact same girl in the photograph Gerda had given him, only older, wiser beyond her years. She had seen death and destruction, starved and struggled, seen humanity at its worst and still, managed to come out of the Hell alive. Though a tiny smile played on her lips in each, it was evident within her eyes that she'd seen horrors beyond any a normal human being should. Her eyes were haunted in both photographs, but in the second, they went beyond- straight to tortured. After a moment, he turned both photographs around, reading the writing on the back.

The first, written in Polish, was marked, _Warszawa, Polska, Może, 1938. Levi, Miriam, Zahrah i Chava._

So it had been taken in May, back when they were all nothing more than children-

He sighed, turning to the second photograph. It was a beautiful photograph- taken in the winter, for the three occupants wore coats, scarves and gloves. The pair were sitting on the top step of a home, close together, in a very intimate way usually unseen in photographs from that time period, with the little girl sitting on the young man's lap, her legs over the young woman's. She wore a pair of black Mary Janes, in a light blue coat with shiny white buttons, with a matching cap on over her dark curls. The three were seated close together; the little girl had her arms around the young woman's neck- she was forced to lean in, since the child was leaning back against the man's shoulder- he rested his cheek against the child's temple, as did the woman. It was a very beautiful, very intimate, personal portrait of a family- so unlike the portrait of the siblings taken in thirty-eight.

After a moment, he flipped the portrait over, reading the writing on the back, obviously Gerda's handwriting,

_Berlin, Deutschland, Januar, 1950. Zara, Aziza und Adrian._

It was Adrian and Zara, with little Aziza, taken sometime in January- before the trio disappeared forever.

As Tim went to turn the photograph back around and set it with the others, he stopped. There was a small piece of clear tape- yellowed with age- beneath the names. Pulling out a pocket knife, Tim gently worked the tape away, revealing two words:

_Letzte Foto._

He swallowed; though his German was still semi-par, he knew enough of it to know what the two words meant.

_Last Photograph_.


	133. Chapter 133

**Rifiuto: Non Miriena**

_"My father is dead. You are now my father."_

_- Zoltan Zinn Collis (1940 - 2012), Holocaust Survivor_

West Berlin,

Germany

11:30 A.M.

_The meeting ended around eleven, and before they left, Adrian and Conrad agreed to get together within the next week to discuss plans. As they went their separate ways, Zara grabbed his arm, pressing a kiss to the other man's cheek and squeezing his hand. As she and Adrian walked home, she asked, _

_"When do we start planning?" He met her gaze, tucking her arm within his, resting his other hand atop hers, squeezing her fingers. _

_"As soon as possible, if we're going to leave by February, we had best pack, so we aren't rushing to do it before we leave." _

_"But we have yet to make plans, why so soon?" He sighed, keeping silent. "Adrian?" She stopped, tugging him off the sidewalk, so they could talk privately. "Talk to me, husband. What is wrong?" He shook his head, sliding his other arm around her waist and pulling her close. _

_"Nothing." His whisper was soft, the worry clear in his eyes. She slid her arms up his chest and around his neck, deciding to forgo pinching him like she would often do when he tried to lie to her. _

_"It is not nothing, my love. Something is worrying you. Please, talk to me." But he just shook his head, pulling her closer and burying his face in her neck. They swayed gently for a few minutes, before he breathed,_

_"I just.. don't want to lose her." She tightened her hold, pressing a kiss to his neck before pulling away and reaching up to caress his face._

_"Neither do I, and we will not. Conrad will help us get out. He will..." She bit her lip, thinking. "He will help us keep our family together." Adrian swallowed, closing his eyes and pressing soft kisses to the insides of her wrists. Then, without another word, he pulled away, taking her hand as they walked home._

_They returned home to find Gerda rocking Aziza gently back and forth in the kitchen; the little girl was sobbing. "What happened? Tante?" Zara rushed after her husband as he hurried into the kitchen. Gerda, relived turned to him._

_"There you two are-"_

_"What happened, what's wrong?" He asked, suddenly worried at the redness of Aziza's cheeks._

_"I saw your note-"_

_"What happened to her?" He snapped, quickly taking the child from his aunt's arms. The little girl latched onto him, head resting on his shoulder; her sobs didn't stop, if anything, they got worse. "Tante!"_

_"Adrian! That is enough!" Zara snapped, quickly removing her gloves and joining them. She quickly brushed a finger over Aziza's cheek; the girl flinched away, sobbing harder. "She is burning up." Gerda rushed towards the fridge, pulling it open. She pulled out a couple of ice trays and began removing the cubes, placing them in a bowl._

_"She woke up with a fever. I bathed her and brought her in here, because it's cooler, but she's been crying for you both. I can't get her fever to break-" _

_"Here, give her to me." Once the little girl was in her arms, Zara slipped upstairs. Adrian and Gerda shared a glance, before following; they found Zara in the bathroom- she'd drawn a bath and quickly undressed Aziza, lowering the child gently into the lukewarm water. As the moisture hit the child's skin, her sobs calmed slightly. "Shh, hush, Ahava. Hush." Adrian leaned against the door frame, crossing his arms over his chest as he watched his wife. _

_"I thought you already bathed her, Tante." He said, glancing at Gerda, who stood beside him. _

_"I did, but it-"_

_"It often takes more than one bath for a fever to break." Zara interrupted, as she continued to gently bath the girl's skin, gently brushing the washcloth over her body. "Whenever one of us fevered, Ima would bathe us twice, to be safe. She would leave us in the water afterwards, to allow us to... calm, I guess, before putting us to bed."_

_"You work from experience." Adrian replied; his wife glanced at him over her shoulder._

_"I used to help Ima when Chava fell ill; she would not allow Ima or anyone else to touch her, only me. So I often cared for Chava when she got sick... and when typhus filled the ghetto... Chava recovered, but... but Malka did not."_

_"Malka?" Adrian glanced at his aunt. He'd never heard the name, nor any mention of such a sibling. Zara nodded, continuing to bathe Aziza; the child's sobs had calmed greatly, in favor of hiccups._

_"My baby sister. She died in the ghetto, winter before..." She stopped, eyes filling with sadness, but then she forced a smile, leaning towards the little girl. "There, that should help." Adrian and Gerda watched as Zara brushed a kiss to the child's forehead, and then set the cloth down. "There is a towel-" Adrian got what she asked as Zara gently lifted the little girl out of the tub, taking the towel and wrapping it around her. "Thank you." As she gently dried the child off, Aziza rested her head against Zara's cheek, clearly, the fever was taking its toll on the little girl and she was tired._

_Gerda excused herself to answer the ringing of the phone downstairs, but Adrian followed Zara into Aziza's room, watching as his wife worked on caring for the child. Once dressed in a fresh pair of pajamas, Zara moved from the room into her and Adrian's; she settled in the rocking chair, tucking the throw draped over the arm around them. Aziza curled into her embrace, resting her head against Zara's chest, the sound of her heartbeat in the little girl's ear. Adrian watched them as he leaned against the doorway, drinking in the sight of his wife and the little girl they'd adopted._

_It was so natural, what Zara was doing, and Adrian couldn't help the twinge of pain as he thought of their own little girl, dead before she even left her mother's womb. Would Zara have been as natural with Ziva as she was now? He shook his head; no, he shouldn't even be comparing the two situations._

_A soft lullaby reached his ears, and he looked up, watching as she pressed a kiss to Aziza's forehead. He sighed. _

_Until this moment, he'd been worried about their plans; but now, he knew they were making the right decision. If not for their sake, then for Aziza's. She needed them, as much- if not more- than they needed her._


	134. Chapter 134

**Rifiuto: Non Miriena**

_"Do not go peacefully, they are killing us by the hundreds."_

_- William Herskovic (1914 - 2006), Holocaust Survivor_

_Berlin, Germany_

_Four Days Later_

_9:00 A.M._

"_Herr_ McGee?" Tim looked up to find an older woman standing across from him. He'd slipped out of the house, leaving Ziva, Wilde and Mallart to spend a little time together; Ziva had pretty much shoved Tim out the door that morning, saying she needed a little time away from him and his "obsession"- not that she _wasn't_ as obsessed with the case, but it hadn't taken over her every waking moment the way it had him. He was just so desperate to solve the case, that he feared it would drive him insane before the year was out-

"Yes. And you are?" The woman held out a hand.

"I am Sophie Linden. I work at the National Archives-" Recognition soon dawned.

"Of course. I'm sorry, I didn't recognize-" She waved it away with a smile. "Please, sit." Once she was seated, he asked, "What can I help you with?"

"Actually, it is what I can help you with." She replied, pulling out the two photographs Tim had brought to the archives two days prior, asking if anyone could authenticate them- Sophie was able to, seeing as she'd worked at a museum for a time when she was younger. Now, she laid the photographs on table. "I looked at these- they are genuine." She then pulled out the other objects he'd given her- the prayer book, the compass and the leaflet. "As are these. I did handwriting analysis on the signatures on the back of the leaflet- all are from members of the White Rose-"

"The resistance group at Munich University in the forties?" He asked, and she nodded.

"_Ja._ Every single one. Majority are dead now- either died during war or in years after. Only a couple are still alive." She tapped Adrian's signature. "He is the only one I could not find." Tim nodded; he'd expected as much. "And the prayer book..." She pushed it towards him. "Belonged to Zara Hirsch." His head snapped up.

"It did?" She nodded. "How do you-" A moment passed as Sophie pulled back the book, opening it to the page just behind the title page. He leaned close; the writing was faded in spots, but still readable.

"It is Polish._ Do Nasze Zahrah, z okazji Twoich urodzin, miłość, Abba i Ima._ It translates: '_To our Zahrah, on occasion of your birth, Love Father and Mother_.'" She handed the book to him, and then turned to the compass. "As for this, the face is cracked. But," At this, she turned the compass over, exposing the bottom. "if you look, you see the date and maker." Tim listened, enthralled by what she'd found- "Come, I have something you need to see."

By the time they left the cafe, Tim was thoroughly confused; she led him through the streets of Berlin, before finally reaching a portion of Berlin Tim remembered- the East Side Gallery. "Um, why are we-"

"You know story of Berlin Wall, yes?" She asked, as they walked along the gallery. Tim nodded.

"Of course. I remember watching the coverage on the TV when it fell- I was a kid, and I didn't get the whole significance of it, but I understood that its coming down was a good thing." She nodded, smiling at him, happy to hear that at least one American knew the significance of such an event, if it had been halfway around the world, and he'd been a child.

"It was terrible thing, this wall, _Herr_ McGee. Separated families, friends, coworkers. Cost hundreds lives. Starved hundreds others for sake of Communism."

"It was... punishment for Germany's hand in the Second War." Tim said, turning to her. "Like when the League of Nations stripped Germany after the Great War." She nodded, glancing at the famous painting of Leonid Brezhnev and Erich Honecker embracing with a kiss- the famous Fraternal Embrace, known among Communist countries. Though now covered in graffiti, it still held significance beyond reason. "In a way, Germany deserved it." She glanced at him, not at all surprised to hear him say what everyone acknowledged. "Germany cost millions of innocent people their lives, all because they believed the word of one delusional little man. Splitting up Berlin was the best thing that could have happened. Sure, it was harsh, but the punishment fit the crime."

Eventually, they stopped. "Do you know number of deaths Berlin Wall caused, _Herr_ McGee?" He shook his head. "One hundred thirty-six. And that is just from caught at the wall, there were many more from underneath- though number is not exact."

He turned from studying one of the paintings- they were beautiful, all of them, in their own way. Though all conveyed the same message- a hope for peace. He suddenly turned back, something she'd said catching his attention. "I'm sorry... underneath?" She nodded.

"_Ja_."

"But... there's no way-" She chuckled softly.

"When desperate to be with family members,_ Herr_ McGee, person will do anything. To escape life of starvation and death, one will risk life to survive." They continued walking again, in silence, gazes falling to the wall they walked beside. A moment passed, before Tim reached out, brushing his fingers against one of the murals. "For years, Herr McGee, Germans have been shedding blood- Jewish blood, American, British, French blood, even blood of own German people. And still, today we pay for sins of others. Sins of grandfathers. _'Only guilty are guilty. Their children-'_"

"_'Are not.'_" Tim finished, turning to her. "Elie Wiesel." She nodded, sniffling.

"My grandfather, was Gestapo guard. Turned in many Jews. Paid for his crimes at hands of Jews who survived. I am not sorry I never knew. My father, spent years making up for his father's crimes. But it is never enough. Germany will spend rest of eternity paying for its crimes." She stopped, gaze dropping to the ground, as she seemed to search for something. A sigh escaped her throat. "Often, ordinary things lead to buried secrets." Then, with a simple nod and a soft 'Have a good afternoon,' she was gone up the street and around the corner, leaving Tim confused by her turn of phrase.


	135. Chapter 135

**Rifiuto: Non Miriena**

**A/N: You know that song wasn't even in the musical. He wrote it specifically for the film... *mutters* Listening to it twice is fine, but after the third time, it gets _old_...**

***turns up the volume on_ You Must Love Me_***

**If I have to listen to that song _one more time_, I may just beat her with it. **

**A/N: This skips ahead for a reason... - Ev**

_"Love makes everything complicated."_

_- Elie Wiesel (1928 - )_

West Berlin,

Germany

30 January, 1950

3:00 A.M.

_He awoke with a start; something wasn't right. Silently, he got up, being careful not to wake his wife, and made his way to the window. Even through the glass, he could hear the whir of a car engine, and the crunch of tires on asphalt- a light soon caught his attention; a flashlight, and two quick, successive circular flashes. He nodded, knowing it was one of the men that Conrad worked with. The man turned off the flashlight, indicating that he'd gotten the signal. Taking a deep breath, he turned back towards the bed where Zara slept peacefully._

_They'd been planning this for weeks, had everything ready- so why was his stomach suddenly in knots? This was the best choice for his family-_

_The only choice, really._

_He made his way towards the bed, kneeling by Zara's side. "Zara, my love, wake up." He was gentle as he woke her, brushing his fingers against her cheek. It took a moment, before she slowly opened her eyes, meeting his gaze._

_"Adrian?" He nodded. "What are you-"_

_"Get dressed, love. They're waiting for us. Come on, we don't have much time." Still half-asleep, she nodded, sitting up. Once they were both dressed and had only what they could carry in a couple small knapsacks, they awoke Aziza and dressed her, before leaving._

_ The drive was nerve-wracking- every other car on the road that passed by had the potential to stop them; the main reason for such a hurried flight, though, lay in the letter they'd received in the mail three days earlier. The German courts had informed them that on the thirtieth, someone from child services would be arriving at six in the morning to take Aziza away- giving the couple three days to explain to the child what was going to happen and get her things ready to go when the courts' child service officer came to pick her up, and tell her goodbye. Adrian had met with Conrad, showing him the letter, at which time the other man suggested taking those three days to get everything ready to go; they would flee on the thirtieth, at three, giving them a three-hour head start over child services. __When they finally reached the entrance to the underground, it was just before twilight. Conrad greeted them when they entered the small brick building._

_"We can only take a few at a time. There are already others ready to go. Aziza- Aziza, right?- can come, but not both of you at once. One of you has to stay behind until the next transport." _

_"Why?" Zara asked, turning to him, Aziza in her arms. Conrad sighed. _

_"Because some of these tunnels are narrow. We can only take about ten of you at a time, any more and it's dangerous. So one of you has to choose. You'll both be on the other side of the wall eventually, but one of you will get there before the other." Adrian glanced between them, before standing back, indicating who was staying and who was going. Zara turned to Adrian, shaking her head. _

_"No." She bit her lip. "No, I cannot leave you-" But all Adrian did was take Aziza in his arms and press a kiss to her head. He hugged the child tight, whispering something to her, before pulling away to meet her young gaze. Then, he pressed one last kiss to her lips and let Conrad take her before turning to Zara._

_"Go." She shook her head, the tears in her eyes swiftly moving down her cheeks. "Yes. Zara, go."_

_"No, I ca..."_

_"Yes, you can. I'll be right behind you. I'll be in the next group, I promise."_

_"You want me to just... leave you here..." She choked out, glancing behind her. "Adrian, no-" He took her hands, walking her backwards, towards Conrad, who'd already given Aziza to one of the others seeking esc_ape. He grit his teeth as she dug her heels in.

_"Zara, I am not going to argue-"_

_But she reached up, grabbing the front of his light jacket and pulling him close. Their mouths met in a deep kiss, and she wrapped her arms tight around his neck, holding firm to him. He could taste the salt from her tears, and the sheer terror she was feeling at the thought of being separated again. He slid his arms around her waist, holding her close as he drank her in. "What if I lose you? Adrian... what if you are caught before... they check this area, yes?" His soft sigh told her she was right. She shook her head. "I cannot leave you... Adrian, please... After all we survived-"_

_He took her face in her hands. "Hey, look at me. Look at me, Zara." A moment passed before she met his gaze. He shook his head, grinning. "Won't happen, love." Gently, he wiped away her tears before sliding his hands down her sides, and resting his forehead to hers._

_"You do not know that-"_

_"Yes I do!" He chuckled softly, reaching up and taking her face in his hands again. "Zara... my beautiful... amazing, Zara... my love, my wife..." He sighed, resting his forehead to hers again, gathering his thoughts. When he spoke, his voice was firm, determined, strong, despite the worry ghosting in his blue eyes. "We will be together, no matter what, okay?"_

_"But-"_

_He reached down, taking her hand and lacing their fingers together. "We will be together, Zara, my love." He told her firmly. "No matter what, we'll be together. No matter what time or place or year or century or... millennium... we. will. be together, the two of us. You know why?" She shook her head. "Because God decided we would be. God chose us to be each other's mate, just as he did for Adam and Eve-"_

_"Adrian, there is no-"_

_"Then Cupid, Aphrodite, the Fates, the stars..." He replied, reaching up and taking her face in his hands, making sure she was paying attention. "Whatever you choose to believe, Zara, my love, but either way, we were meant to be. Someone decided, at the beginning of time, that we would be together, and I thank God he did." He sighed. "In every century. In every life... we are meant to be together, you and I. No matter who we are or where we end up-"_

_She sniffled, and he stopped. "Adrian-"_

_A sigh escaped his lips and he once more returned his forehead to hers. "The only way- the only way- I will ever leave you, my love, is when I die. And even then, Death is going to have a difficult time, because I am not going to go willingly. I will never leave you willingly. Not unless I have to." She closed her eyes, knowing he meant now, knowing that he had no choice. "Now go." She shook her head, choking on a sob. "Zara-" _

_"I cannot leave you hear! What if you are killed? Or-"_

_"I'll be fine, love, trust me. Don't you trust me?_

_"Of course I do, but-"_

_"But nothing, Zara. You have to do this. They're waiting for you. I will catch up. I'll be in the next group, I promise." _

_She broke down, throwing her arms around him; the thought of losing him, after all they'd gone through, too much to bear. He tightened arms around her, swaying gently back and forth. "Hey, you can't get rid of me that easily. You're my wife, that means you're stuck with me. Not even something as stupid as brick and mortar can keep us apart." He pulled away enough to see her eyes. "My Zara... I love you." _

_Then, with one last deep kiss, he turned her around and pushed her towards Conrad. _


	136. Chapter 136

**Rifiuto: Non Miriena**

**A/N: We remember the twelve killed at _Charlie Hebdo_ in Paris today.**

**Charlie Hebdo Shooting**

**Paris, France**

**7 January, 2015**

_Merabet Ahmed, (1973 - 2015), Police Officer_

_Franck Brinsolaro (1966 - 2015), Police Officer, Bodyguard of Charb_

_Frédéric Boisseau (1973 - 2015), Sodexo employee_

_Jean "Cabu" Cabut (1938 - 2015), Cartoonist_

_Elsa Cayat (19?- 2015), Psychoanalyst and Cartoonist_

_Stéphane "Charb" Charbonnier (1967 - 2015), Editor and Cartoonist of Charlie Hebdo_

_Philippe "Honoré" Honoré (1941 - 2015), Cartoonist_

_Bernard "Oncle Bernard" Maris (1946 - 2015), Cartoonist_

_Moustapha Ourad (19? - 2015), Proofreader_

_Michel Renaud (19? - 2015), Guest columnist_

_Bernard "Tignous" Verlhac (1957 - 2015), Cartoonist_

_Georges "Wolinski" Wolinski (1934 - 2015), Cartoonist_

_**Je Suis Charlie**_

**Thanks to Reader for reviewing 132, 133, 134 and 135.**

_"We did our duty as human beings: helping people in need."_

_- Miep Gies (1909 - 2010)_

_Berlin, Germany_

_11:00 A.M._

Tim sighed, glancing around, Sophie's words running circles in his head.

_Ordinary things lead to buried secrets. _

He removed the bag from his shoulder, kneeling down to open it before pulling out the leaflet and the compass. Despite its broken glass, the needle still worked. Sophie had said that the names on the leaflet were the names of members of The White Rose that had stood against Hitler during the war. All but a couple were dead, and she hadn't been able to find Adrian at all.

He glanced at the leaflet, reading the words on the front- she'd paper-clipped a translation to it, and quickly, his eyes scanned the words. They were fiery, passionate, independent of what everyone in Germany thought at that time... the students' words, the words of Sophie and Hans Scholl, of Christoph Probst, of Kurt Haber, of Adrian Fromm... they were crying out against Hitler, and lost their lives for it-

"_'... We grew up in a state in which all free expression of opinion is unscrupulously suppressed. The Hitler Youth, the SA, the SS have tried to drug us, to revolutionize us, to regiment us in the most promising young years of our lives. "Philosophical training" is the name given to the despicable method by which our budding intellectual development is muffled in a fog of empty phrases. A system of selection of leaders at once unimaginably devilish and narrow-minded trains up its future party bigwigs in the "Castles of the Knightly Order" to become Godless, impudent, and conscienceless exploiters and executioners - blind, stupid hangers-on of the Fuhrer. We "Intellectual Workers" are the ones who should put obstacles in the path of this caste of overlords..._

_... That is a beginning of the struggle for our free self- determination - without which intellectual and spiritual values cannot be created. We thank the brave comrades, both men and women, who have set us brilliant examples..._

_... Freedom and honor! For ten long years Hitler and his coadjutor have manhandled, squeezed, twisted, and debased these two splendid German words to the point of nausea, as only dilettantes can, casting the highest values of a nation before swine. They have sufficiently demonstrated in the ten years of destruction of all material and intellectual freedom, of all moral substance among the German people, what they understand by freedom and honor. The frightful bloodbath has opened the eyes of even the stupidest German - it is a slaughter which they arranged in the name of "freedom and honor of the German nation" throughout Europe, and which they daily start anew. The name of Germany is dishonored for all time if German youth does not finally rise, take revenge, and atone, smash its tormentors, and set up a new Europe of the spirit._

_Students! The German people look to us. As in 1813 the people expected us to shake off the Napoleonic yoke, so in 1943 they look to us to break the National Socialist terror through the power of the spirit. Beresina and Stalingrad are burning in the East. The dead of Stalingrad implore us to take action. "Up, up, my people, let smoke and flame be our sign!"_

_Our people stand ready to rebel against the Nationals Socialist enslavement of Europe in a fervent new breakthrough of freedom and honor.'_"

The words were beautiful, vibrant. Tim himself only hoped to one day write with as much passion and strength as these young college students did. They stood up against oppression and tyranny, and many lost their lives because of it. He turned the leaflet over, reading the names- names lost to history for years, before one person decided to dig through the chaos left by such hate and murder, and dig them out of the rubble.

After a moment, he put the the leaflet back into his bag, glancing at the compass. The needle was flinching,, moving back and forth in little jerking movements, going from north to west and back. He glanced towards where the needle was pointing-

The sound of his phone ringing caused him to nearly drop the needle, and he quickly dug the phone out of his pocket.

_Ziva. _

Biting his lip, he answered. "Hey Ziva-" He listened to her talk for several minutes; she informed him that she and the girls had looked through every bit of evidence, and had yet to find anything else even remotely helpful in regards to solving the case. "Actually, about that... remember the woman who works at the Archives?... yeah, her. Well, her name's Sophie, and she also authenticates for museums... yeah, I gave her what I found in Adrian and Zara's room, she said they're all from the war years; the prayer book was actually given to Zara by her parents when she was born... yeah, it has an inscription from them in the front in Polish..."

As he talked, he followed the needle of the compass, glancing up every once and a while to figure out where he was headed. Eventually, he stopped at a crosswalk, and looked up to find himself near the border with what had once been the western side of West Berlin. As he headed across the street, something caught his eye-

A small brick building.

"Um, Ziva, I'm gonna have to call you back... if I don't, I'll see you all when I get back." And without another word, he hung up. As he slipped the phone into his pocket, glanced behind him before pulling the door open and finding himself in what appeared to be some sort of small ticket lobby.

"Hi, are you here for the tour?" He turned to the man who made his way towards him.

"I'm sorry... tour?" The man nodded.

"_Ja_."

"Of... what?"

The man chuckled. "Of the underground." At Tim's confused stare, he elaborated, "This was the system that helped people escape when the wall was up. It was Germany's... underground railroad if you will. Care for a tour?"


	137. Chapter 137

**Rifiuto: Non Miriena**

**A/N: Hey guys, we're heading home. I'll try to get the next few chapters uploaded, but it might be awhile; our flight leaves at 5:00. *turns to Z* Licia wants to see you when we get home. Texted me and said something about... wanting to talk... *takes her hand, pulls her close* As long as you talk to her, she has my permission to spend as much time with you as she can.**

**~ *pulls away from him, scurries off to finish packing* **

***sighs* Especially since the only time I ever _hear_ your voice anymore is when you're listening to U2 on your Ipod, and you're singing along under your breath... **

_"If you are going through hell, keep going."_

_- Winston Churchill (1874 - 1965)_

Germany

Berlin Underground

11:00 A.M.

_At times, they had to crawl on hands and knees to get through tunnels that were exceedingly narrow, other times, they had to be lowered by ropes, but most times they could walk through without trouble. The tunnels were really a series of connected bunkers beneath the city, created by Hitler for the purpose of living in. Sometimes small, confined spaces made of cement and sandy soil, those escaping were forced to crawl, with only the darkness ahead and the sound of their fellow escapees guiding them through._

_Most times, Adrian was able to handle the tunnels around him with composure, but at times, the small, dark and constricting space brought back painful memories of his time digging tunnels at Berga-_

_"Hey, you okay?" He looked up as Conrad joined him, having just taken another head count to make sure no one had gotten left behind. With a swallow, he nodded. "What's wrong, Ad?"_

_"I just... what if Zara... what if they didn't make it?" Conrad sighed, before taking his friend's shoulders._

_"Hey, look at me. They go out. Okay? They're strong... Zara survived Auschwitz- that in itself is a feat. Not many survived that death camp; she was one of the lucky ones. If she can survive that, then she can survive this, you have to believe that. Okay? Adrian," Slowly, the other man met his gaze. "She survived. Keep thinking that." _

_A moment passed before Adrian nodded. _

_The trek was long, stifling, silent. Adrian continued with the others, reminding himself that Zara was on the other side of the wall with Aziza, waiting for him. At one point, he looked down at the feel of something in his hand; a little boy had rushed up to him, taking his hand. He looked no older than six or so, with sandy blonde hair and blue eyes. Quickly, he looked behind him, before looking back at the little boy. "Mama said I could walk with you. You look lonely."_

_Adrian chuckled, squeezing the boy's hand as he looked back at the parents; the mother gave him a small smile, and he nodded, smiling in kind. "That's very kind of you."_

_The boy smiled at him. "Where's your family?" Adrian sighed._

_"On the other side of the wall. They went through the tunnels a few hours ago. They're waiting for me." The boy nodded._

_"Oh. Are they your parents?"_

_"No. My parents and my sister... they passed away a few years ago." The boy gently squeezed his hand. "No, it's my wife and my little girl."_

_The boy nodded, as though understanding great things about the world around him. Adrian chuckled. "I'm Patrick." He met the child's gaze._

_"Nice to meet you, Patrick. I'm Adrian."_

_"What's your wife's name?" The boy asked, curious. "Mama's name is Eleanor."_

_He chuckled, biting his lip before he whispered,_

_"Zara, my wife's name is Zara."_

_The boy looked up at him. "It's pretty." He nodded._

_"It is."_

_The group continued through the tunnels, stopping every so often to make sure they were all still together. Occasionally, they'd have to stick to the walls, if something was blocking the paths or hold hands to keep from getting separated. Patrick held tight to Adrian's hand; the little boy viewed this whole ordeal as a grand adventure. It was difficult to see in the dimly it- sometimes dark- tunnels, so the majority of the time they moved by feel of the walls around them. They were silent, but every so often, chatter would start up, as they talked about what they'd left behind and why. They came from all different backgrounds, but they'd all fled for the same reason- freedom._

_Eventually, however, they stopped, as the sound of something. Adrian rushed to Conrad, hoping to God that what he was about to suggest was wrong. "Con, tell me that's not what I think it is." Conrad met his gaze. "How much further do we have to go?"_

_"Not far. Half a mile, at most, maybe less." Adrian grabbed the front of his friend's shirt, pulling him close._

_"Half a mile? What do you mean we have half a mile to go? My family is on the other side of that wall waiting for me, and you're saying that we have- at most- half a mile to go? Damn it, Con, I want to be able to see my family again, I want to hold my wife and kiss my daughter again-"_

_ But before he could finish, the familiar sound of rushing water reached them; the groundwater had risen, thanks to the constant rain they'd been having over the last few days. Screaming soon filled his ears, and he was taken back to the trains that had taken them to Auschwitz; the terror and fear that had permeated the air as families had been separated- _

_He turned, searching for Patrick; Adrian had taken it upon himself to protect the little boy in return for the child's companionship as they moved through the tunnels- it made the pain of his separation from Zara and Aziza just a little easier to bear-_

_The child's screams reached his ears and he rushed to him, scooping the child into his arms, protecting him from the rush as water from the storms came barreling down on them. For a brief moment, Adrian wondered if this was how those trapped in third class upon the Titanic felt. He held the little boy close, gasping as the cold water hit his back; they scrambled for a way out, pushing against one another in attempt to escape. Though they knew not all would survive to see freedom, to see their families, they had to try. Eventually, they all lost count of how much further they had to go, so intent on surviving the flooding were they. _

_At one point, Adrian was able to hand Patrick to Conrad, who got him somewhere safe, but he lost his footing; the water shoved him into one of the walls, along with several of the other escapees. He reached up, grasping at soil, at anything that would help him get his footing... only to feel someone take his hand and pull him up. When he looked up, it was to find a dim light shining through the hole above his head. _

_As he and the others were helped through the hole and into a basement, a woman made her way to them, carrying towels and blankets. She wrapped one around Adrian's shoulders, reaching up and taking his face in her hands. "You must be Adrian. Your wife and child are waiting for you." _

_He took a deep breath, grabbing her wrist as she moved past. "Please, where... where are we?" She met his gaze, her words the sweetest nectar. _

_"East Berlin." _


	138. Chapter 138

**Refusal: No Miriena**

**A/N: Hey guys, we got in... about 8:00 this morning... Z crawled into bed as soon as we got in; she just got up. I went out for a run about 9:00. She's currently curled up on the sofa in the living room, watching Season 1 of_ NCIS_. Poor girl's exhausted. I think she's worn herself out. But Licia's gonna come pick her up and take her out for the day, get her out of the house. And honestly, give me a bit of a break. I love Z with all my heart, but there are days when I need a break. And Licia's been there- maybe she can get Z to talk to her. All I want is my fiance back. I miss her.**

**A/N: Yep, I know- I had relatives on my mother's side that got caught on both sides of the wall in the '70s. They did the exact same thing Adrian and Zara do in this, escaped to the east, found their family members, and then went to Austria before going down to Italy. I remember asking why they didn't just leave freely; they told me pretty much the response in this chapter- at that time, many of those in West Berlin knew that guards had been ordered to shoot and kill any who left the city, so, assuming they would be killed if they tried to leave, they took to the tunnels. One of them told me once that at the time, it was all driven by fear, on both sides, and that fear, especially in a country like post-war Germany, was an exceedingly powerful thing. - Ev**

**Thanks to Reader for reviewing 136 and 137 and ladyd10 for reviewing 137.**

_"There is beauty in the midst of tragedy. As if beauty were condensing in the heart of ugliness. It's very strange."_

_- Hélène Berr (1921 - 1945)_

_Berlin, Germany_

_The Berlin Underground_

_Two Hours Later_

"How could I not know these were here?"

The tour guide chuckled. "The tunnels are Berlin's best-kept secret, Herr McGee."

Tim looked around; this area was massive- going all throughout Berlin, some massive- wide and high enough to stand in, others barely big enough to crawl through. Some were carved of sandy soil, while others were obviously bunkers, carved with cement and mortar. After a moment, Tim made his way towards one of the wall; he brushed his fingers against the almost-silty soil. It crumbled beneath his hand.

_His body hit the wall, water quickly rushed in to fill his lungs as he- like the others- was dragged under-_

Leaning closer, Tim realized that much of the soil was darker.. and packed, as though it had been drizzled with water at one point. And now, even decades later, there appeared to be the faint smell of... rainwater?

_He tried to hold onto the image of his beautiful Zara, as he struggled to grasp onto something solid-_

Tim turned back to the man. "Was there water in here at some point?" The man joined him, leaning close to study the soil. The waterline was faint in places, and stronger in others. A moment passed before he sighed, straightening. He seemed to be thinking.

"Actually, yes. Groundwater flood. In... nineteen-fifty. January, I believe. I have read eyewitness accounts of... escapes going on at time. One account from a survivor says that... water came rushing in like Titanic."

Tim met his gaze. "There are accounts of escapes?" The man nodded. "Would it be possible for me to read them?"

"Of course." As the two men continued making their way through the tunnels- eventually coming to a set of narrow stair that led into the basement of a small house, used to get those into the tunnels from East Berlin, or out of the tunnels from West, Tim spit something into his palm.

"S... silt?" He turned back; that wall was so tightly packed, there was no way-

"Are you okay?" He met the other man's gaze.

"Yeah. Um... listen, would you... happen to have water here? I just... I have a really bad taste in my mouth. Almost like I've been... swallowing groundwater."

An hour later, Tim was sitting in the small library area of the house's living room- the home had since been converted into a small museum, detailing the escapes and the creation of the underground. He was flipping through a book of eyewitness testimony in regards to the escapes. All spoke of their experiences in regards to the tunnels, some spoke of how those working the underground risked their lives for others, and there were a few mentions of the joy to finally find family on the other side.

He sighed, looking up as someone set a cup of tea in front of him, taking a seat. "Find what you're looking for, Agent McGee?"

_"Vielen Dank."_

_"Bitte." _

They sat in silence for several minutes, before the woman asked,

"What... exactly are you looking for, Agent McGee?"

He shook his head, gathering his thoughts. Eventually, he leaned close. "I'm... investigating this case... it..." He pulled out what had been authenticated earlier, handing them to her. "It involves a couple- Adrian Fromm and Zara Hirsch. Fromm and his family hid Hirsch and her younger sister in the walls of their home during the Second War. They were captured and sent to Auschwitz; both survived, and lived in Berlin after the war ended. At one point, from what I've been able to figure out, they adopted an orphaned little girl in about... forty-eight, forty-nine, and then disappeared early in fifty, not long after the wall went up."

"And you have reason to believe they escaped through the tunnels?" She asked, handing them back. Tim nodded.

"I know it's a longshot, but-" She pulled the book towards her, quickly flipping pages.

"Nineteen-fifty, you said?" Tim nodded. She continued to flip through the book, going back to the very beginning before moving forward again. "And you think January?"

"Yeah. Maybe... early January... but I'm not really sure."

She nodded, listening. "Hirsch and Fromm?"

"Zara Hirsch and Adrian Fromm-"

Eventually, she stopped, turning the book towards him and pointing to a page. His gaze moved to the date, January thirty-first, nineteen-fifty. He scanned the various names, shaking his head, before he stopped; there, in black and white, were three names- _Adrian, Zara and Aziza Fromm_. A smile tugged at his lips. "That's them." He showed her the names, and she nodded, getting up. "Wait, there's one thing I don't understand."

"What is it?"

"They lived in West Berlin. They were free to do as they wanted, including leave. Why... why escape through the east? They could have just... hopped the border to France and-"

Slowly, she returned to her seat. "That is true, but you must understand, Agent McGee, that the police were ordered to shoot any and all trying to escape, on either side of the wall. So to any living in West Berlin at the time, as far as anyone knew, they would be shot trying to cross the border or leave the city, so many opted to escape. It was simply fear, that drove them to flee. And in Germany, especially after the war..."

He waited.

"Fear is a very powerful thing, Agent McGee, a dangerous thing. Seeing friends and loved ones killed for possibly leaving, even in Free West Berlin? It was nothing but plain and simple dangerous fear."


	139. Chapter 139

**Rifiuto: Non Miriena**

**A/N: Hey everyone, this is Licia- I'm Ev's older sister. I've been over here for the last couple days since Z's attempt; we've been taking shifts. Ev's with her now. I needed to get out of the bedroom for a while. I work at the psych ward at the mental hospital here, and so I know what it's like to watch a loved one suffer... I just wish it wasn't my future sister-in-law... she's not the monster she thinks she is.**

**Um, anyway, with Ev taking over the next shift, I figured I'd do a little reading- you know, find out exactly why everyone loves this story they've been working on. It's actually good. Really, really good. Like... _novel_ good. But that could just be me; Ev's my baby brother and Z's about to be my sister-in-law, so it could just be personal bias...**

**I read Ev's note to all of you, and I know he said that he wouldn't be updating until Z got better, but, I figured that, maybe I could help lessen his load a little. I could take over some of the writing in between shifts... multitasking isn't that difficult for me, I have two little girls, if I can handle them, work and my marriage, I can handle work, my brother, the mess his fiance's gotten herself into and a little writing. Plus, if I can help Ev focus on Z in any way _other_ than the 'hovering in the room doctor kind' that he's already yelling at me about, then maybe I can reduce a little of his stress if I have something to occupy my time when I'm not... you know, hovering in the room. **

**So I'm just gonna take Ev's little note down and post this chapter, and then fix a cup of coffee, pull up the preview, read through it and work on the next one._ Shh_. Just _don't tell_ my brother. **

**I'm looking forward to this,**

**- Licia**

**Thanks to Reader and Well for reviewing 138, and thank you to everyone who read Ev's note; if you could still keep Z in your thoughts, we'd really appreciate it.**

_"Here's a test to find out if your mission in life is complete. If you're alive, it isn't."_

_- Lauren Bacall (1924 - 2014)_

Berlin Underground

Two Hours Later

_Adrian looked around; he didn't see any sign of Zara or Aziza- _

_"Hey." He turned to Conrad, who slung an arm around his shoulders. "They're waiting for you. Come on." Adrian followed his friend out of the basement and into the main portion of the house. He was led into the kitchen, where he was soon tackled by the familiar whirlwind that was his wife._

_"Oh thank God! I was terrified... when they told us that the tunnels had flooded... I thought I had lost you-" He shook his head, pulling away to look at her. _

_"No, I'm here, Zara, love. And I'm okay. Are you-" _

_"We are okay, we both are." She replied, kneeling down and scooping Aziza into her arms. Adrian pressed a kiss to his daughter's head before doing the same to his wife, drinking in her taste with relief. "But... we have a problem." He took the little girl into his arms, confusion filling his blue eyes as Aziza wrapped her arms tight around his neck._

_"How so?" She glanced at Conrad._

_"You still have to get out of East Berlin and... Germany all together. And... if you're planning on going to Israel, then you have the entire rest of central Europe and into the Western part of Asia to cross before you reach Israel."_

_"How many?" _

_"Ad-"_

_"How many countries, Con?" Adrian asked, shifting his hold on Aziza, who nuzzled into him, arms around his neck._

_Conrad sighed, calculating everything in his head. "I can get you into Prague by tomorrow morning if we go now, but then you still have Austria, Hungary, Serbia, Bulgaria, Turkey, Syria and Lebanon to go before you even reach the Israeli border." He glanced at Zara, seeing the fear in her eyes. Taking a deep breath, he reached out, taking Zara's hand and squeezing. "I can take you as far as Prague, Ad. But after, you'll have to find your way to Israel on your own. I won't be able to help you. The rest of the journey will have to be yours." He reached up, rubbing Aziza's back; the child lifted her head, meeting his gaze. "There are people within each country that have been helping Jewish refugees for years, since before the war. They can help you, and I can give you their names, but you'll have to seek them out yourselves. I have to stay here."_

_Adrian nodded, glancing at his wife. "How soon can we go?"_

_Conrad glanced at those he considered the last of his family. He sighed. "As soon as possible." It was Zara who spoke next._

_"Okay. Then, it is time for us to go, yes?" She glanced at both men, then reached over and took Aziza from Adrian and moved past them. Adrian and Conrad exchanged a glance. They followed after a moment, stopping at the front door when Zara turned back to them. She adjusted her hold on the child, turning her gaze to Conrad. She opened her mouth, promptly closing it. Conrad waited._

_"What is it?" Adrian glanced at his wife when his friend didn't answer his question. Shifting Aziza on her hip, Zara made her way towards the other man._

_"What are you hiding from us, Conrad?" She asked, dark eyes narrowing. "You are hiding something from us. Conrad!" He jumped, swallowing thickly. "We live in West Berlin. West Berlin is free. We could leave whenever we wanted, so... why did we have to use the tunnels?"_

_A moment passed, before he slowly pulled something out of his jacket pocket and unfolding it. He held it out to Zara, who quickly glanced at it before snatching the paper from his hands. It was silent, only the soft whisper of Aziza's small hands brushing against Zara's skin as she adjusted her grip on the woman's neck as the woman she thought of as her mother read what Conrad had given her. _

_"They... placed a price on our heads?" She asked finally, meeting his gaze. The other man nodded._

_"The border guards were ordered to catch you and... instead of bringing you both in for interrogation, they're ordered to execute you on the spot, for kidnapping."_

_Zara turned to her husband. "You knew about this?" Her voice was soft, deadly. Adrian swallowed thickly, closing his eyes and mustering enough courage to simply nod. He jumped with a high-pitched yip as Zara reached out; her hand contacted with the back of his head, and he stumbled briefly, reaching back when she pulled away. _

_"Ow, do you have to be so violent?" Conrad smiled softly. _

_"How could you not tell me this, Adrian!" She cried. "You knew the whole time that we could very well be killed for accused kidnapping when we adopted her, and yet, when this came up, you did not even think to tell me?" Aziza started to whimper, and Conrad quickly scooped the child into his arms, taking her into the small kitchen to get her something to eat. Her hands now free, she shoved him, causing him to stumble back before catching his balance. Once his back hit the wall, she stepped up to him, her pretty features twisted into a glare. "Well? Explain it to me, husband!"_

_He swallowed. "Zara, my love... I... I just... I didn't want to worry you..."_

_"We are wanted... fugitives, Adrian! Had we remained in the West, they would have killed us- for kidnapping when we did nothing wrong!"_

_"Zara, let... let me... I... I'm sorry, my wife, I just... I figured..." But she didn't say a word, instead, she just shook her head and stormed off, joining Conrad in the kitchen. Sighing, Adrian followed, watching as Zara took Aziza from Conrad; their eyes locked, and he could feel the burning distrust within those dark depths he loved so. It was going to be a long escape, and he had to be careful. _

_Because if he wasn't, Zara might just kill him._


	140. Chapter 140

**Rifiuto: Non Miriena**

**A/N: Okay, I think I'm getting the hang of this... it alternates between past and present... and I was _finally_ able to decipher my brother's... it's not even _handwriting_... I always thought I had horrible handwriting, and _I'm_ a doctor...- Licia**

**Thanks to Reader, Gina Callen and ladyd10 for reviewing 139- well, the chapter 139, not Ev's note, although, thank you to all who read it, too. **

_"The amount of violations of human rights in a country is always an inverse function of the amount of complaints about human rights violations heard from there. The greater the number of complaints being aired, the better protected are human rights in that country."_

_- Daniel Patrick Moynihan (1927 - 2003), American Politican and Sociologist_

_Berlin, Germany_

_Berlin Underground_

He understood about fear, he really did, but there had to be more than that. Something- something _major_- had made them run from freedom in the West. _Something_ had sent them into the mists of history, never to be heard from again.

He'd searched through everything, looking through everything the underground had on those that escaped, but found nothing. He'd asked numerous tour guides, but they had limited information on the people that had passed through, just on the tunnels themselves. Deciding that it was better to take what he'd learned and tell Ziva, he gathered his things and stood from the table, grabbing the notepad in which he'd jotted down the limited information he'd found on the Fromms, when stopped, something catching his eye.

Slowly, he pulled whatever it was out from beneath the pages of the ledger, discovering it to be nothing more than a folded piece of paper, crinkled and worn and slightly faded, stuffed absentmindedly between the pages of the ledger. Quickly, he pulled out a pair of latex gloves, pulling them on before he unfolded the sheet-

His eyes widened, and after a moment, he refolded it and slipped it into his bag. After quickly thanking those that worked the tours, he left, dashing back across the streets. He pulled out his phone and quickly dialed Mallart's apartment, unfolding the sheet of paper as he waited for someone to pick up. After a moment, he finally heard a soft, breathy,

"Hello?"

"Zia, it's me."

"Tim? Where are you?" He glanced over his shoulder, before turning back to the paper at hand.

"I'm... I'm just leaving the Berlin Wall."

"The... Tim, what are you doing at the Berlin-"

"Did you know that there's a whole network of tunnels beneath the city, Ziva?"

She was silent for a moment; he could hear her shaking her head in confusion. "What?"

"Yeah, there's an entire network of tunnels running beneath the city. They were originally the tunnels Hitler was going to use, and then they sat abandoned until the wall went up- after the wall was built, people escaping from the east used them to get into the west, and those leaving the west used them to get into the east."

"What... what does this have to do with the Fromms, Tim?" Several seconds passed as his gaze scanned over the paper- it was a flyer, printed in the early fifties- "Tim! Are you there? Talk to me."

"I... I know why they left West Berlin."

"What? Why who left-"

"Adrian and Zara."

"What about them?" He could hear crying in the background, and minutes passed as Ziva headed into the other room to calm one of the twins. He chuckled softly, hearing her hum softly to the baby in her arms, and knew she was probably holding them against her shoulder, bouncing them gently back and forth as she paced the room, the phone held to her other ear. "Tim? What about Adrian and Zara?"

He scanned the flyer again, before whispering, "I'll explain when I get back. I promise."

Within an hour of getting off the phone with her, he stepped through the front door, finding Ziva sitting on the sofa was Mallart; each had one of the twins in her arms, and Wilde was sitting on the floor, the evidence spread out around her, trying to fit pieces together. "Hey." She got up, going to him. "Where have you been?" She pressed a quick kiss to his lips, even as he pulled the flyer out of his pocket and held it out to her before taking their little boy in his arms. "What is this?"

"That," He started, removing his bag from his shoulder and handing it to Wilde, who quickly took everything he'd found that day and laid it out among the rest of the chaos that was their case. "Is the reason Adrian and Zara fled West Berlin in nineteen-fifty." He shifted his hold on the baby, the child reached out, poking his father's lips with his tiny, pudgy fingers, of which Tim gently kissed as he cooed softly to the infant.

He watched as Ziva slowly unfolded the flyer, her dark eyes quickly scanning the front of it, her mouth dropping in shock. "You are kidding." He shook his head as they locked gazes.

"No."

"What is it?" Quickly, both Mallart and Wilde scrambled to join the pair, reading over Ziva's shoulder. "Is that... a wanted flyer?" Wilde asked, not entirely believing what her eyes was drinking in. Tim nodded.

"Yeah. For both Adrian and Zara. On... charges of kidnapping. The guards at the border were ordered to shoot, no interrogation, no trial, just straight execution if they caught them crossing the border." Ziva returned her gaze to the bottom of the flyer.

_... for kidnapping of a child whom rightly belongs in the custody of her aunt._

"Aunt? But... I think thought Aziza was an orphan-" Tim shrugged, meeting her gaze.

"She was. At least, I'm guessing that's what Adrian and Zara were told when they adopted her. From what I could gather today, Aziza had an aunt who tried to claim custody nearly two years after her mother's death and the adoption went through."

"But.. how do we know the woman was really her aunt and not some woman trying to use a child for financial gain?" Mallart asked, shifting her hold on the little girl. Tim shook his head; they all turned as Wilde spoke, having taken the flyer from Ziva's hands and returned to the floor, lying it with the other things they'd been able to find on the child.

"We _don't_."


	141. Chapter 141

**Rifiuto: Non Miriena**

**A/N: Two deciphered... okay, I don't think this is ever going to end...- Licia**

**Thanks to Reader aka Sun Samuri for reviewing 140.**

_"Finding a meaningful life can be easy: Devote yourself to loving others, devote yourself to your community around you … and devote yourself to something that gives you purpose and meaning. … I think you have done this. I hope you noticed, there's nothing in there about money or a salary._

_Do the kind of things that come from the heart. When you do you won't be dissatisfied, you won't be envious, you won't be longing for somebody else's things..On the contrary, you will be overwhelmed with what comes back. And this I write from my own experience."_

_- Wayne Kelly (1948 - 2012), Irish Boxer and Referee _

Prague, Czechoslovakia

31 January, 1950

3:00 A.M.

_"I can't go any further than here. I'm taking a risk even dropping you off this early in the day." _

_Even though it was still dark, the risk of being caught for helping refugees escape Germany- either West or East- was great, and punishable by death. "We understand, Conrad." Zara's voice was soft, and she pressed a kiss to Aziza's forehead; the little girl was sound asleep in her arms, head resting on her shoulder. "Thank you." He nodded, going to her and pressing a kiss to Aziza's hair before wrapping Zara in a hug. He brushed a gentle kiss to her lips, taking her face in his hands._

_"You take care of him, you hear me, Zara? I do not want to find my best friend on my doorstep fifty years from now, bloody and homeless because he didn't do something you wanted him to or because he made you mad." She giggled softly, blushing._

_"I promise." Then, with one last kiss, he pushed her towards the brick townhouse not far from where they'd parked, before turning to Adrian. Silence fell between the two, and after a moment, Conrad glanced towards the house._

_"Agáta and Dalimil Dušek will help you get through the underground; they can give you a few nights' rest here, and then help you navigate the labyrinth. They have all the names and locations of the others on the route that help fleeing refugees." He pulled out a sheet of paper and a small bag, pushing them into Adrian's hands. "Passports, for all of you- if you were to use the ones issued in Germany, they would send you right back to Berlin, and you both would be executed. The__ Dušeks__ can also tell you what to expect on the route, who to avoid and whom to seek out." He took a deep breath. "It may take a few days or a few months, depending on how many miles you cross and how smoothly it goes, but you'll get there."_

_Adrian nodded, the pain in Conrad's eyes as evident as the pain in his own heart. They were best friends, they had grown up together, survived everything that had been thrown at them, looked on each other as brothers at heart, and now... to be parting under such stressed circumstances... "And you?" He couldn't keep the tears from his voice._

_Conrad chuckled dryly. He'd supported Adrian's decision to join the White Rose at University, even delivering leaflets to University in Berlin when one of the members managed to make it back up north; he'd supported the decision to hide Zara and her sister, had looked after and protected Cora as best he could, right up until her death, he'd kept Zara and Aziza safe in the tunnels beneath Berlin- Adrian owed him a debt deeper and richer than any amount of money, and he intended, one day, to collect. But first, he needed to make sure that his best friend and his family escaped safely, even though he knew they might never see each other again. A moment passed, before he kicked at the road beneath his feet, shrugging, hands in his jacket pockets._

_"I can't leave the underground. They need me. I have too much work to do- there are still people that need to get out, on both sides- and God only knows how long that wall will stand in the middle of Berlin. And I..." He swallowed thickly, meeting Adrian's gaze. "I intend to stay, and do as much as I can, for however long that wall is up. And I will be in Berlin when it finally comes down."_

_"You will be the one to throw the first swing." Adrian replied, grinning. Conrad chuckled, shrugging, a blush tinting his cheeks. He glanced back towards the house._

_"I see her."_

_"See who, Con?"_

_"Cora. Whenever I look at Zara. I see Cora in her. So much of Cora. She is so like your sister- stubborn, curious, exceedingly set in her ways." It was Adrian's turn to chuckle. "Feisty. And loving and compassionate and gentle... exactly like Cora. I can only imagine your sister being exactly like Zara, had..." His eyes filled with sadness at what he'd lost, almost seven years prior. "Had she lived past seventeen." _

_Adrian swallowed. He knew Cora's death had affected Conrad; it had affected all of them- but he hadn't been aware of exactly how much it had affected him. And there were days when Adrian found himself on the same wavelength, imagining what his baby sister would have been like, had she lived to see adulthood. "You take care of her, Ad." The two men locked eyes. "Zara, and that little girl. You take good care of them both. Because they... they're special. Very, very special."_

_A soft nod met him in response. "I will, Con."_

_"Good." Silence drifted between them. "Stay close to the outskirts for as long as you can; the Germans have alerted the other countries of your 'crime'- if you're caught, they will not hesitate to send you back, all in the name of money. Just like those who turned in Jews for a fee during the war." He swallowed, remembering how he'd promised Zara he'd take care of his sister... and how he'd ended up ultimately breaking that promise, thanks to the Nazis. But if he could make it up to Zara somehow-_

_"Con?" They locked eyes, and he chuckled as Adrian held out a hand, before pulling the other man into a hug._

_"Be safe."_

_"We will."_

_"And when you reach Israel, you live for Cora, and Eva and your parents... and life lost at the hands of those... Hurensöhne, you hear me, Adrian?" His best friend chuckled, nodding. _

_"We will. I promise." Conrad nodded once, squeezing his friend firmly before pulling away and pressing a kiss to his temple. _

_"I love you, Ad. No matter what happens or where you end up, remember that." Adrian chuckled, nodding, mouthing it back to him before he glanced towards the house. Then, he pulled away, hurrying to join his family. When he looked back, Conrad was turning the car around and driving down the road. _


	142. Chapter 142

**Rifiuto: Non Miriena**

**A/N: Okay, I think... I think that when Ev took over for Zani, he went a little overboard... Is he trying to impress the Nobel Prize Committee?- Licia**

_"__It is not the literal past, the 'facts' of history, that shape us, but images of the past embodied in language_._"_

_- Brian Friel (1929 - ), Irish Playwright_

_Berlin, Germany_

_1522 Freidrichschain_

_Three Months Later_

"Six months... I am the father... the very _exhausted_ father... of six-month-old _twins_."

Wilde chuckled, shifting her feet out of the way as Tim collapsed on the sofa, flipping another page in the scant evidence they'd been able to find in regards to illegal adoptions. Clearly, this subject was touchy in Berlin's past- they didn't want it known, and so many of the files 'disappeared', which made their search harder. So far, they'd found nothing in regards to Aziza or her adoption, nor had they found anything on the supposed aunt who had been interested in taking her away from Adrian and Zara.

"It's exhausting, isn't it?" He nodded accepting the coffee cup Ziva held out before she settled into his lap. Mallart was sitting on the floor of the living room, surrounded by the 'evidence' in their case, watching the home videos again, searching for anything she could use in regards to figuring out where they'd gone. So far, she'd found nothing.

"They are both sound asleep. I am hoping that they will both sleep and not wake up crying again." Ziva sighed, laying her head on Tim's shoulder. The twins had started teething, which kept both their parents, as well as Mallart, up most nights.

"Teething is a pain- for both parents and kids." Wilde muttered, glancing at Mallart, who was jotting something on a notepad. "You okay, Mallart?" After a moment, the other woman looked up.

"Yeah. Just..." She stopped, thinking, before she paused the video. She sighed, setting the pencil down. "What I was thinking, was taking the videos to Carson and having him clean them up a bit- maybe give us a clearer picture. See if he can find anything."

"A fresh pair of eyes." Tim said, returning from the kitchen with a cup that he held out to her. "That could work." She gave him a soft smile, accepting the mug as he knelt down to read what she'd written. "Listen, Mallart, Ziva and I... we haven't meant to stay so long... if we're invading your space, just tell us..." She met his gaze, confused.

"Where did you get that idea?" He shrugged.

"Just..." She shifted, glancing down quickly before meeting his gaze again; Wilde and Ziva were talking softly on the sofa, going over the evidence on the adoption.

"Tim, I love having you both here. And the twins... they're wonderful. And... I'm going to miss all of you when you leave."

He sighed, taking her hand and squeezing. "Listen, Mallart, I... I'm sorry, about your husband and daughter. I can only imagine-" She squeezed his hand in response, silencing him.

"Thank you. And I... I know I need to move on, but... I just... I can't-"

"Can't forgive yourself for surviving?" She nodded, sniffling.

"Yeah. No matter how hard I try to, I just... can't help feeling as though..._ I_ caused the accident." She took a deep breath. "I didn't see the ice. I didn't know it was there, so when we hit it... the car spun out of control and... when I hit the brakes, we..." She stopped, swallowing before forcing a small smile. "Not important right now."

He watched her, before slowly nodding. "So, have you figured out anything more on them? Zara and Adrian?"

She sighed, turning back to her notes. "Well, we know they escaped the wall, by going through the tunnels. The problem is figuring out where they went after."

"They didn't stay in the east?"

She glanced at him. "_God no_. East was communist, and they were wanted for supposed_ kidnapping_. If they'd stayed... no, they would have fled- problem_ is_, all the countries in the east bloc were well... communist."

"So they had to go somewhere that _wasn't_." Tim replied, and Mallart nodded, pulling an old map of the Eastern Bloc out of a book and laying it out. He sat beside her, leaning to look over her shoulder at the old map that showed the countries caught up in communism.

"Right. So... we look at the countries around and near Germany. Easy. We remove those countries listed within the bloc that fell to communism. We do that-"

"We can chart their path out of Germany and to..." He stopped, pulling the map closer. "East Berlin was communist, right?" Mallart nodded.

"East Berlin and East Germany belonged to the USSR- technically, it belonged to three countries, but for the sake of the lifespan of this case, we'll just lump the other two into the USSR." Mallart pulled out a blue highlighter, reaching out and placing a dot within West Berlin. "So, in order for them to escape the west, they had to escape the Wall, which they did in-"

"Late January, nineteen-fifty." Tim filled in, watching as she quickly drew an arrow through the 'wall' that had been drawn on the map when it was printed, and into East Berlin. "So they escape the west with death and a price on their heads, into the east. They can't stay there or they'll be sent back and executed, and they can't flee into Russia, it's all communist, and they'd have to cross Poland-"

"The eastern half of Poland was given directly to the USSR after the war; the western half was given back to Poland by Germany after they surrendered and before the wall went up. They could have gone through Poland, but it would have been a huge risk. If caught, they probably would have been executed instantly."

Tim nodded, accepting the green highlighter Mallart held out and placing a small 'x' in the upper right corner of Poland, denoting it as a country the Fromms _wouldn't_ have passed through. He quickly scanned the map. "What about Czechoslovakia? Was it entirely communist or just half?" Mallart thought a moment, studying the map.

"Just the eastern half was communist. The western was free." He uncapped the pen again, drawing an arrow through Eastern Germany towards western Czechoslovakia.

"So, they'd flee East Germany, ending up in most likely Prague, in Western Czechoslovakia. From there-" He studied the map. "If they're going through Czechoslovakia, then they'd have to go through free Austria, Hungary-"

"Serbia, Bulgaria-"

"Which country does that part of land belong to?" Tim asked; she leaned close, studying the small country beneath Bulgaria.

"That's part of Turkey." He nodded.

"Oh. So... they'd have to cross Turkey also."

"Most people think Turkey was communist- they weren't. They were a democracy during that period." She sipped her coffee, before studying the map again. "Hmm... they'd also have to go through Syria and Lebanon- which, back then, wasn't as big a powder keg as it is now."

Tim met her gaze. "Why would they go through Syria and Lebanon? Where could they possibly have ended up going through those two countries, when they probably just stayed in Turkey-"

"Israel." Everyone turned to Ziva; the young mother had been listening to the conversation for the last several minutes, and even though she was sitting on the sofa with Wilde, she could see the route the Fromms had taken clear as day, even without the map. "They would have gone to Israel."

Tim capped his pen, setting it down and turning to her. "How do you know that, Zia?" She didn't bat an eyelash.

"Because they were refugees from the_ Shoah_, Tim. And if they were refugees, then..." She shrugged. "to them, Israel was freedom."


	143. Chapter 143

**Rifiuto: Non Miriena**

_"I crossed the room, and what you did was to feel my hair over and over again and in different ways, touch it, with the palm of your hand... felt it, strands of hair, with your fingers, touched it as if it were cloth, the way a child touches its favorite surfaces."_

_- Edna O'Brien __(1930 - ), Irish Novelist_

Prague, Czechoslavakia

4:00 A.M.

_Adrian looked up as he shut the door softly behind him. The house was silent, and slowly, he made his way through the small back room, into the kitchen. Zara was sitting at the kitchen table, talking with an older couple, Aziza in her lap, awake, but sleepy. All four looked up as he entered, and after a moment, Aziza reached for him, breaking the silence. "Vati!"_

_After a moment, he made his way to the table, taking the little girl in his arms. "You must be Adrian, Conrad has told us a lot about you." He turned, nodding to the couple. They appeared to be in their forties; they didn't strike Adrian as the type that could help them escape, but then again, he'd often been wrong before. "Your wife was telling us about what you plan to do." He nodded, pressing a kiss to Aziza's head as she curled against his shoulder, eyes beginning to close again. Slowly, he sank into an empty chair, settling the little girl on his lap._

_"You... you can help us?" He didn't fully believe it. The woman nodded._

_"We can. We can get you out of Prague, and into Vienna, but it will be a journey."_

_Adrian furrowed a brow, glancing at his wife, who wrapped her hands around the mug in front of her, keeping silent. "But... Conrad said-"_

_"Dalimil makes regular trips to Vienna. He services the Viennese Orchestra; it is... a very distinct honor."_

_"He is a carpenter." Zara whispered at her husband's confusion. "He creates their instruments, for both the Prague Orchestra and the Viennese."_

_"I need to... make a trip to Vienna in a week. I will take you then." The older man said, gaze going to Aziza, who had, upon settling in her father's arms, promptly fell asleep. "But now, I think it is time we got a hot meal into you both before bed. My wife has already taken your things to your room." He glanced at Zara. "I have already discussed it with your wife. There is a small room connected to yours- for your daughter, so you are close to her."_

_He nodded, thanking the man. After both had eaten, Dalimil took the trio upstairs, showing Adrian the two rooms. He stopped after lighting the fire, turning to the younger man, as Zara dressed Aziza in her nightgown and tucked her into bed. "She is mad at you." Adrian met his gaze._

_"I'm sorry?" _

_"Your wife. I know that look. My wife wears the same when she's angry at me. You must not let anger mar this journey. You will need each other to survive the road ahead. You cannot protect each other or your daughter if you hold anger in your heart. Your daughter needs both of you, if she is going to grow up free. You cannot raise a child in freedom if you hold anger in your hearts." _

_And then, bidding them both goodnight with a soft nod and gentle blessing, he left, shutting the door softly behind him. Once they'd made sure Aziza was tucked into bed and changed out of their own clothes, they slipped beneath the covers; suddenly, the chill they hadn't noticed within the old house made itself known, despite the fire blazing in the small fireplace in the corner of their room. Cautiously, he sidled up behind Zara and slid his arms carefully around her waist. She stiffened._

_"I'm sorry, I should have told you, but... after the last time... how you reacted, I... I was... I was worried you'd do the same again."_

_She turned, meeting his gaze over her shoulder. Her dark eyes studied him. "You lied to me."_

_"I know."_

_A moment passed, before she removed her gaze, settling against the blankets. Her whisper was soft, but it dug into his heart like the sharpest of bullets. "You have done nothing but lie. You have built our marriage on lies alone."_

_He shook his head. "No, Zara. I haven't always lied to you-" She glanced over her shoulder at him again, before sitting up._

_"No? Then explain it to me, Adrian, because I am obviously not smart enough to understand." She pushed his hands away, pulling her knees to her chest and resting her head atop them, tears misting her gaze. "You say you love me, and yet... how can a man like you love a filthy Jew like me?"_

_"What?" He sat up, scooting closer. "Zara, where is... what does this... what?" But she shook her head._

_"How do I know you will not leave as soon as we reach Israel?" The tears in her voice broke his heart, as he realized what this was really about._

_"Zara, my wife, I... I will never leave you, you know that! I love you. I... what can I possibly do to convince you?" She shook her head, sniffling. A moment passed, before she shifted back to her side, struggling to stem her tears. He took a deep breath, watching her, before deciding. Without a word, he grabbed her around the waist._

_"Adrian!" _

_But his mouth was soon on hers, silencing her startled protests. He shifted, pulling her into his lap and dropping his arms around her waist, slipping one hand beneath her top to stroke at the velvety skin of her back. His other hand tangled in her hair, holding her head firmly in place as they drank hungrily from each other. She struggled to push him away, but soon gave in, sliding her hands up to cradle his neck. He pulled her closer, relishing the feel as she melted into him, as her body slid against his, fitting perfectly. He bit gently on her lower lip when he pulled away, meeting her gaze. Tears slipped down her cheeks, and tenderly, he kissed each away._

_Then, he slowly shifted her onto her back, undressing and showing her slowly, all the truths their marriage had been built on._


	144. Chapter 144

**Rifiuto: Non Miriena**

**Thanks to Reader aka Sun Samuri for reviewing 141, 142 and 143.**

_"Anybody who has the courage to raise his eyes and look sanely at the awful human condition ... must realize finally that tiny periods of temporary release from intolerable suffering is the most that any individual has the right to expect."_

_- Flann O'Brien __(1911 - 1966), Irish Novelist, Satirist, Playwright_

_Berlin, Germany_

_1522 Freidrichschain_

"Israel? Are you _sure_, Ziva?" He stood, going to her as Mallart turned back to the map, studying the trail they'd drawn from Germany through eastern Europe.

"It became its own country in nineteen-forty-eight, Timothy. Many of its first citizens were refugees from the second war seeking asylum from Germany." Ziva replied, as crying soon made itself known over the baby monitor. Without a word, he headed upstairs, coming down minutes later with their little girl in his arms.

"It makes sense." Mallart said, not even aware Tim had disappeared and then returned. "Israel was a free state by the time the Fromms would have left Germany. It was still accepting refugees into the fifties, unlike the United States, who stopped in fifty-two. Therefore, the timeline fits. Adrian and Zara both survived the Holocaust; they would have fit the profile of someone seeking refuge after the war. And given the circumstances to which they'd fled- an illegal adoption, and execution upon capture- it makes sense that they would have sought refuge in a country as far removed from Germany as Israel."

Tim nodded, heading into the kitchen and pulling out a small bag of frozen grapes from the freezer. Both he and Sarah had teethed on frozen grapes when they were babies, and Ziva had never been so relieved to learn of the little tricks Tim had hidden up his sleeve. After removing a grape from the small plastic bag, he held it out to his daughter, who took it in her pudgy hand and stuck it in her mouth. Once the girl was quiet, Tim returned to the living room, taking a seat on the floor and settling her in his lap. He payed close attention to the little girl as she held the grape in her hand, sucking on it.

Gently, he brushed his fingers lightly through his daughter's hair, pressing a kiss to her head before turning back to the route they'd drawn on the map. After a moment, he shifted, settling the little girl on the floor between his legs, tucking one leg back so she couldn't escape and make a mess of the evidence. The little girl leaned back against her father, watching Mallart with wide brown eyes, before holding the grape out to the woman, who shook her head with a smile. Though the twins were beginning to go through stranger anxiety, they were perfectly comfortable around both Mallart and Wilde.

Tim chuckled, reaching up and taking the little girl's hand. "No sweetheart, that's your grape. You keep it." The child trned back to him, before putting the grape in her mouth. He gave her a small smile, even as crying sounded over the baby monitor. Ziva was on her feet in minutes, but Wilde pushed her back to the sofa, saying she'd get the little boy.

"They always do this." Ziva said, taking a sip of her coffee. "One may be a wake for a few minutes before the other one wakes up. It is... almost as if they know that they are alone."

"Twins don't like to be separated often, especially when they're babies." Wilde replied, coming back downstairs with the little boy in her arms. He, unlike his sister, possessed Tim's beautiful green eyes, and a mass of light brown hair, like his father. Ziva quickly set her cup down, reaching for the baby when Wilde returned to the sofa.

"Come here, little love." She settled the baby on her lap, taking his small hand and pressing a kiss to it. "My sweet boy." The baby watched her, before curling into her chest. Ziva chuckled softly, holding her son close; she'd started weaning them both, but there were days when neither would take the baby cereal or the strained fruits and vegetables Tim and Ziva gave them, preferring her milk on certain days.

"Hey Ziva?" She looked up as Mallart studied the map again, before grabbing the remote and turning on the TV. She pulled up her DVR after removing the DVD holding the home videos, and quickly scanned through the folders of saved shows, finding the one she wanted. "Do you have..." But she stopped, eyes scanning over each title. Wilde rolled her eyes and quickly shook her head.

Tim turned to his partner, catching onto Mallart's lost train of thought. "You have contacts in Israel, right?" She shrugged.

"Depends on what you are looking for, Tim." She replied, shifting the little boy in her arms and pressing a kiss to his head.

"Could you... ask them about refugees from the Holocaust... between the years forty-eight and fifty-one? See if they... might have any information on the Fromms?" Ziva nodded.

"Of course." Tim turned back to the map as Ziva grabbed her cell and quickly dialed a number.

"Maybe- and this is just a suggestion- we should see if we can find any information on their route."

"You mean like ask around?" Tim turned to Wilde.

"It's evident that any information on them in Germany in general is gone and has been since they left in fifty. But maybe there's information about them in other countries or other cities-"

"Like Prague and Vienna and-"

"And maybe we can get some information on how exactly they escaped Communist Europe at the time." Mallart finished, tearing her gaze away from a documentary she'd recorded about the various ways people used to escape the Berlin Wall. "We need to trace them." She studied the others, biting her lip. "We _need_ to follow their trail. It's the only way we'll be able to figure out what happened to them unless we follow the route they took."


	145. Chapter 145

**Rifiuto: Non Miriena**

**A/N: Adrian has this skip ahead to... is that... Vienna? Or... Belgrade?... never mind, it's Sofia. So he skips over other cities... yet he writes... over two hundred pages for the rest of this... I'd personally finish out Prague before moving on, but it's not my story... I'm just uploading the chapters... Damn it, Ev. You took cursive in school for a reason! I can't read your... _scribbles_.- Licia**

_"Compassion and toughness can go together."_

_- Wayne Kelly (1948 - 2012)_

Sofia, Bulgaria

The Farkas Household

The Following Week

2:00 A.M.

_They awoke early the following week, and after a quick breakfast, Dalimil loaded his tools into the back of his car. They were given a few things to eat, and given instructions to be safe; Dalimil would take them to Adelaida and Bence Farkas, a young couple who had taken it upon themselves to help those escaping Western Europe. They'd known about Adrian and Zara's plans- for Conrad had contacted them not long after meeting with them in the cafe- and they'd eagerly agreed to help, especially when they found out that a child was involved._

_After several hours journeying by car, Dalimil had finally pulled up to the house, shutting off the car and helping them out. The door quickly opened, and a young man- not much older than Adrian and Zara himself- poked his head out. "Dalimil? That you?"_

_"Good to see you again Bence." The older man replied. "Now move, unless you are going to have these young ones stay out here all night." The man in question- Bence- quickly stepped back, pulling the door open. As Adrian gently guided Zara inside, Dalimil said, "These are the Fromms- Adrian, Zara and their daughter, Aziza. They are in your care now. You take good care of them."_

_Then, he nodded to each, before leaving. Once he was gone, Adrian turned back to the couple; they weren't much older than he and Zara. He pulled Zara closer, not fully trusting the pair that were entrusted with helping them. "You are Adrian and Zara. And this must be Azia?"_

_"Aziza." Zara whispered, shifting the little girl on her hip. The other woman nodded. _

_"I'm Adelaida and this is my husband, Bence. How about we get you something to eat-"_

_"Adelaida, they are tired. Let them sleep." His wife turned to him. Her dark hair was pulled back in a messy braid, making her pale skin glow in the candlelight. _

_"And they will, once they have something warm in their bellies." She then led them into the kitchen towards the table. Once they were seated, Adelaida set two cups of coffee before them, and a glass of milk for Aziza. The child shifted in Zara's lap, reaching for the glass, but Zara grabbed her small wrist. The child turned to look at her. _

_"What do you tell Mrs. Adelaida, little love?" Her voice was gentle, and after a moment, the girl turned to the other woman. She whispered something, before burying her face in Zara's chest, suddenly shy. "She means thank you." Adelaida smiled, reaching out and gently rubbing Aziza's back before going to the stove. Adrian watched his wife and daughter, lost in thought-_

_But he soon turned, hearing soft giggling coming from the living room, and he glanced back, but found no one. "How long have you been... doing this?" Zara asked, gently pushing the glass of milk further back on the table when Aziza set it down._

_"Well, my parents began helping Jewish refugees into Palestine in the years after the war ended; when they closed the border to Palestine, they stopped. My mother got sick and later passed away, and my father followed not long after. There was a short while when we did not help-"_

_"But after the wall went up," Adrian finished. "You started helping again." Bence nodded._

_"Seeing people suffering, even if it's countries away from us-"_

_"It still affects you." Adrian whispered, glancing at his wife. Zara met his gaze, before turning back to Aziza as Adelaide set plates before them. "Thank you." She nodded, taking a seat across from them._

_"How old is she?"_

_"She is not yet four. She turns four in two months." Zara said, as the child in question reached for the roll. Soft giggling was heard again, and Adrian once again turned, searching for the source of the laughter._

_"Is there someone-" Adelaida rolled her eyes, getting up from the table and going to the kitchen doorway._

_"You two are supposed to be in bed." After a moment, two little girls- a couple years older that Aziza- followed their mother into the kitchen, heads down. "Our daughters, Ivet and Lala." She knelt to their level. "Why are you two up? You are too be in bed. You have school tomorrow."_

_"We wanted to see the people, Mama." One of the girls replied. Adelaida sighed. She led the girls to the table, allowing them to take seats across from the family, but the younger girl turned to her mother._

_"They don't look scary, Mama."_

_"Why would they look scary, Lala?" She asked. The child swallowed, glancing at her father._

_"Papa said they were... raggers." Adelaida furrowed a brow, glancing at Adrian and Zara, who shared a confused look._

_"Rag... oh. No, sweetheart." She chuckled softly, kneeling down to meet her daughter's eyes. "They are refugees. We are helping them escape to Israel."_

_"Why?" Silence before for several minutes, before Adrian spoke up._

_"Because... things were not good in Germany. We couldn't find work, but we heard... about the job opportunities in Israel... but you can't leave Germany willingly." Zara turned to him, eyes wide. The young girl studied him, before turning back to her mother._

_"And we're helping them?" Her mother nodded. Seeming satisfied at the moment with the answer, the girl took a seat at the table, and then she noticed Aziza in Zara's lap. "Who is she?"_

_"This is our daughter, Aziza."_

_"Azzzi?" Adrian chuckled softly at the child's attempted pronunciation of the name._

_"Ah-zee-zah." Zara replied, sounding it out slowly for them. "She is our daughter." The child in question burrowed further into Zara's chest, opening one eye to study the older girls._

_"Can we play with her?" Zara sighed, glancing down at her daughter._

_"Tomorrow, perhaps. I can see the angel wings tugging at her eyelids." She sighed, the familiar words her own mother used to use tugging at her heart as she spoke, gently brushing a finger along Aziza's cheek, before brushing a kiss to the girl's head. "Would it be all right if we put her to bed?"_


	146. Chapter 146

**Rifiuto: Non Miriena**

**A/N: I'm gonna kill my brother. I'm just... I'm gonna kill my brother. Plain and simple. - Licia**

**Thanks to Reader for reviewing 144 and ladyd10 for reviewing 142 and to Guest for reviewing 143- and thank you, I didn't catch that, and I'm certain my brother didn't. **

_"I do not speak of my experiences during the Holocaust. I do not dwell on these moments. What we must remember are the Jewish souls that did not survive and this is what I am trying to do- capture them to bring back their spirit. They have much to tell us and show us of their lives. Maybe beside[s] an artist, I am now also a historian."_

_- Irene Lieblich (1923 - 2008), Polish-born Illustrator and Painter_

_Prague, Czechovlakia_

_Three Weeks Later _

"Are you_ sure_ this is the address, Tim?"

He rolled his eyes, returning his gaze to the notes he'd taken. He'd managed to get a hold of Agent Barrett in Rota, who had connections in Czechoslovakia. "Yes, Ziva, this is the address E.J. gave me." He'd known Agent Barrett since he'd joined NCIS- she'd been at Norfolk for a year when he'd arrived there, and then she'd later taken a position in Rota, Spain to head her own team. But it was her best friend, Emma Hawkins, an agent with the team in Istanbul, who was her major contact, and the one that had gotten a hold of Tim in regards to the Fromms.

Hawkins's mother was originally from Prague, so the young agent- she didn't look any older than eighteen- spent her childhood and teenager years bouncing back and forth between Houston and Prague. In fact, she was suppose to meet them when they arrived in Prague, but at the moment, hadn't shown up. "It is a coffee shop, Tim."

He sighed, gently nudging her aside and pulling open the front door. He made a quick sweep of the small cafe-

Until a tap on his shoulder caused him to turn around. "Looking for me?"

"Agent... Hawkins?" She grinned.

"You must be Agent McGee and... that must be Officer _Da_vid, right?" She said, glancing at Ziva, who nodded. "So, you know E.J.?"

"Yeah. I know her. She was a year ahead of me at FLETC." He replied, closing the door, but Hawkins reached out, catching it.

"She's kinda quirky, isn't she?" Tim shrugged.

"Aren't we all?" A quick smile met him, and after a moment, she slipped inside, beckoning them to follow. She led them to a small table at the back, peeling off her light leather jacket as she took a seat.

"So... E.J. mentioned when she first called that you're _lookin'_ for someone?" The pair nodded, and Tim pulled the file they'd built on the Fromms out, sliding it over to Hawkins as their coffees arrived. "Right, the Fromms..." She quickly flipped through the file. "Well, I can take you to the area they stayed at, but you can't interview anyone."

"Why not?" Ziva asked, wrapping her hands around the mug. Hawkins turned to her, raising one slender eyebrow.

"Seriously? Look, Officer _Da_vid, I understand that you both just had a _coupla_ kids, but you can't seriously be that dimwitted." She let her bright, teal eyes rove quickly over Ziva's countenance. "Unless you left your Mossad mind at home and brought your _mommy mind_ with you." Ziva narrowed her gaze at the younger woman, who turned back to the files. "They're dead; the couple that helped the Fromms escape Prague in early fifty. He died of cancer and she succumbed to pneumonia, both about... thirty years ago. But I can show you the house, and... I can take you the rest of the way."

"Rest of the way?" Tim asked, pulling up an app on his phone that he'd designed specifically for the case. He pulled up the map of the route he and Mallart had drawn up. He'd also been able to upload copies of ever piece of their evidence onto the app, so they had it on hand if they needed it. He slid the phone towards her. "You can take us to Sofia?"

"Bulgaria? You want to go to Bulgaria? No _kid'n'_?" He shook his head, sipping his coffee. She chuckled softly. "Agent McGee, Officer _Da_vid, I can take you into _Lebanon_ if that is what you want." The couple shared a glance. "My sister lives in Lebanon; she's a surgeon at the hospital there. Her husband works for the Embassy. I have family all over the U.S. and Central Europe. I can take you anywhere in the C.E. and lower you want. Except Palestine." She thought a moment, shaking her head. "My younger sister ran off and married a Palestinian. Mom was a Czech Jew. She's never been to Palestine, and she's never forgiven Magda for running off. I try to stay out of it, but... kind of hard when she's my twin sister." She turned back to the map. "So... this is the route you think they took?" They nodded. "Okay. Let's get started then."

After finish their coffees, the trio left the cafe; Hawkins led them to her car, and they quickly got in. The drive wasn't very long, but it was filled with silence that Hawkins used to gain a bit more insight into the case. "So... you've been searching for a couple who... survived the Holocaust, and then escaped the Berlin Wall, into East Germany, and then fled, you think to Israel?"

"She was a Polish Jew and he was German." Tim began.

"Adrian and his family hid Zara and her sister in the walls of their house." Hawkins glanced at Ziva in the backseat. The Israeli met her gaze. "How old are you? Twelve?" The other agent started.

"I just turned twenty last August." Hawkins replied. Eventually, they pulled up in front of a sidewalk, and got out. Ziva looked around, confused.

"I thought you said that you would take us to the house. This is an empty lot." Hawkins met her gaze.

"I didn't say a house."

"But you said that you would take us to-"

"To the _area_ the Fromms stayed at before they left." Hawkins replied, kicking at the sidewalk beneath her feet. "I never said anything about a _house_. That's because they tore it down last winter."


	147. Chapter 147

**Rifiuto: Non Miriena**

**A/N: It's called _Doctor-Patient Confidentiality for a reason_, Evan Nathaniel! I can't talk to you about it unless_ Zani_ gives me permission, and right now, she's not talking to either of us! I swear, I'm going to kill him.- Licia**

_"I was a living skeleton."_

_- David Faber (1926- ), Polish-Jewish Holocaust Survivor and Educator_

Sofia, Bulgaria

The Next Day

1:00 A.M.

_Crying reached her ears, and she turned from her baking as Aziza rushed into the kitchen. Adrian and Zara had insisted that, as long as they were going to be here for a few days before they continued on, the least they could do was help around the house. Which meant, while Lala and Ivet were at school, Adelaida helped Zara look after Aziza while Adrian- with his knowledge of printing, thanks to the White Rose- helped Bence at the local newspaper, which the older man ran. And though the child longed to go outside and play, she knew that doing so in a strange land could have bad consequences, so she stayed in the house, following Zara everywhere._

_"Oh, hush, love." Zara quickly wiped her hands on a towel and knelt down, scooping the child into her arms. She took the little girl's hand, pressing a kiss to her small fingers, for the child had slammed her fingers in one of cupboard doors while she was trying to get something. Adelaida watched as she fixed the coffee and put the biscuits that Zara had been making into the oven._

_"You are a natural with her." Zara met her gaze._

_"Thank you."_

_"She is yours?" But the young mother shook her head, pressing another kiss to the girl's hand._

_"No. I... cannot have children... anymore." Adelaida raised an eyebrow and poured two cups of coffee once it finished, nodding towards the table. Once the two women were seated, Zara settled Aziza on her lap, and accepted the cup._

_"You had a child once." Adelaida replied, and Zara nodded, swallowing. "And something happened." She reached over, taking the other woman's hand. "I know. I have felt the death a child within my womb before." The young mother sniffled, turning away briefly._

_"She did not die in my womb. She... she died as she entered the world... in the worst moments within history." She swallowed. "I was weak... and I put my child at risk... and I lost her and... and nearly lost my husband."_

_Adelaida gently squeezed her hand. "You... survived the camps, yes?" Zara nodded, and after a moment, she pulled away, lifting the sleeve of her blouse. Zara was surprised, to say the least, to see the familiar black ink on her arm. "I know what it is like to survive Hell, Zara. I barely survived Treblinka."_

_Zara's head snapped up. "You... you were in..." She swallowed, struggling to catch her breath. "Warsaw?" Adelaida nodded. "You are Polish."_

_"Yes. I was... the only one of my family to survive." A moment passed, before she again took Zara's hand. "I thought you looked familiar. You are Hannah's daughter, yes?" Zara nodded, silent, tears slipping down her cheeks. "I survived the revolt at Treblinka, the uprising, and yet... I barely survived the liberation."_

_"When... when were you taken?"_

_"April..." She swallowed. "April sixteenth, nineteen-forty-three."_

_"The... uprising as they call it... took place on... on Passover." Zara sniffled. "My older brother and sister fought in it, and... and my parents died in it. My younger sister and I... we escaped through the sewers. I have no one left, not from my family."_

_"But you have your husband and your daughter."_

_"My husband... he found my sister and I hiding in an alley in Berlin, and he took us home. He, his parents and younger sister hid us in the walls of their house for... months. And then his parents were captured and we fled..." She stopped, glancing down at Aziza, who looked up at her, tears drying on her cheeks. "None of that matters now." She swallowed._

_They sat in silence for several minutes, before the front door opened and Ivet and Lala came bounding into the house; Adelaida got up, removing the biscuits from the oven as the girls came skipping into the kitchen. Ivet, the older girl, made her way towards Zara; she smiled at the older woman, before turning to the little girl in her lap. "Hello Aziza." She spoke slowly, so that she got the child's name right. "Do you want to go play dolls with us?" She looked up at Zara. "May she play dolls with us, Gospoja Fromm?"_

_Zara glanced at the child, drinking in her dark, braided hair and hazel eyes, the white shirt and black skirt she wore that was her school uniform, and the white socks and black shoes that were on her feet. She looked to be about seven; if Zara were to guess, she would say that Lala was about seven or so. After a moment, she turned her gaze to Aziza. "Would you like to go play, little love?" But the child just burrowed into her chest. Zara laughed softly, stroking her fingers through her daughter's hair. "Aziza, Ivet wants to play dolls with you." She gently pushed the child back to look into her eyes. "How about you show Ivet and Lala the doll Uncle Conrad gave you before he left Prague?" _

_After a moment, the little girl slid off her lap and slowly took Ivet's hand, allowing the older girl to gently lead her upstairs; Lala rushed after them, chattering the entire time. "Uncle Conrad?" Zara met Adelaida's gaze._

_"He is... Adrian's best friend. He helped us escape into the countryside... and he helped us escape the wall."_

_The other woman nodded. "I have heard of Conrad Bletcher, but never met him. All my husband and I know is that he helps the refugees escape. He is doing good in this world." Zara sighed, nodding in thought. _

_"Yes, he is." _


	148. Chapter 148

**Rifiuto: Non Miriena**

_"... due to the trauma of experience of the Slovene Community Hall being burned down, which I experienced at age seven, on the spot, and following the shock that I could not go to Slovene schools anymore, I felt robbed in a way of the spiritual and psychological meaning of life."_

_- Boris Pahor (1913 - ), Holocaust Survivor_

_Prague, Czechoslavakia_

_An Hour Later _

"What do you mean they tore it down? So you have lied to us this entire time? Which means we have wasted... days on this case-"

_"Just cool your jets, Mama Mossad!"_ Ziva stopped.

"I do not have jets and they do not need to be cooled." Tim rolled his eyes, ignoring the two women as his cell rang.

"Hey Boss... hey, listen, we hit a dead... a..." He placed his hand over the mouth of his cellphone and turned to the two bickering women. _"Would you two shut up?"_ They turned to him, two sets of wide eyes staring at the normally mild-mannered agent in shock. "Thank you. Sorry, Boss. I have a feeling Agent Hawkins is getting on Ziva's nerves."

"Abby got the files you faxed over to her. She was able to pull up a few things-"

"Let me talk to him, Gibbs!" Suddenly, Abby's voice came on over the phone; Tim could practically hear her bouncing on the balls of her ten-inch-platforms. "_Timmy! Timmy, Timmy, Timmy, I haven't heard your voice in so long!_ How are things with Officer David? Is she a complete..." Tim glanced at the women, who were studying the vacant lot, each on opposite ends, refusing to acknowledge the other.

"Abby!"

"What? Oh, yeah, right! Um, I got what you faxed over to me, including the map with the route you and Agent Mallart drew up. How is Cordie by the way? I haven't seen her since she transferred to Germany- oh, and Wilde! How's she doing? She was always kind of badass-"

"Abby,_ please! The evidence_. What did you find?"

"Sorry, Timmy. It's just... been so long since I've talked to you-" Tim wasn't surprised to hear Gibbs's soft growl behind her, and she quickly snapped to work, as he switched the phone to speaker and beckoned both Hawkins and Ziva over to him. "What'd you have, Abs?"

"Well, I was able to take the route you and Cordie Mallart drew and overlay it onto a map of modern-day central Europe. From what you've figured out, it appears that you're on the right track. The Fromms _did_ end up in Israel- assuming, you know, that they survived the journey to Israel. And then, I took the list of places and people Hawkins was able to find and run it through records for various underground organizations. None of them turned up- maybe because the underground the Fromms used wasn't _actually_ considered an organization. It was more like a... maze or a secret code they used... something you didn't talk about. You know, like... what's really in lipstick or the ingredients they use in Fritos-"

"Abby." Four voices made the forensic jump and she nodded, even though only Gibbs could see her.

"Right, sorry. Um..." She typed away on her keyboard, however, I did find one name on that list of people."

"Who?" Ziva asked. Abby ignored the woman for a moment as she pulled up the file and read through it. "Abby!"

"She's about sixty or so, and she lives in Manhattan. Her name's Lala Newman, maiden name... Farkas. Her parents were Adelaida and Bence Farkas, and she has an older sister named Ivet, who still lives in Bulgaria."

"Wait, did you say, Bulgaria?" Tim asked, catching Hawkins's gaze. Abby nodded.

"Yeah, Timmy. Why?"

"And... still lives, as in... she's still alive?"

"Yeah, she and her sister are the only two still living that lived on that route you and Mallart drew up. Everyone else has either died from old age, disease or been killed in various revolts and riots that happened in their countries in the years after the Second War. If you're tracing the route, you can go to each country that the Fromms did, but I can tell you now, it'd probably be a waste. I mean, you can go straight to Bulgaria and meet Ivet if you want. I'm telling you, every other person that was on that route is dead and gone- long gone."

"Thanks, Abby." Once he shut the phone off, he turned to Hawkins and Ziva.

"So what do you want to do, Agent McGee? Officer _Da_vid? Follow the route or skip it and find the woman?" Tim and Ziva shared a glance. They both wanted to find the woman, but this route was important-

They had a tangible line that led from Germany to Israel. But then again, Abby had said that all the information she'd found on those working the underground resulted in death, so if anything, they'd be searching for a bunch of gravestones. Besides, who knew how much longer Ivet Farkas would be alive? It seemed like those that had been born or lived during the war years were dying off like flies.

"We could skip the route and then backtrack later?" Ziva cocked her head. "This is too important. We have a chance to meet a woman who came in contact with the Fromms when they fled Germany- even if she was only a child at the time."

"But will she remember them?" Ziva asked. Tim rolled his eyes.

"Hey, if Conrad remembered Adrian and Zara after nearly sixty years- and he knew Adrian when they were children- then I'm sure Ivet Farkas remembers them. I know I'll certainly never forget them." She nodded.

"Okay." Hawkins waited, unable to keep the smile from appearing.

"So... we're going to Bulgaria?" The couple nodded. She let out a squeal of excitement, bouncing on the balls of her feet. "Yes. And I know just the route to get us there the fastest."


	149. Chapter 149

**Rifiuto: Non Miriena**

**Thanks to Reader aka Sun Samuri for reviewing 145, 146, 147 and 148. **

_"Somehow I cheated death, which was always one step behind me."_

_- Charlene Schiff (1930 - 2013)_

Antakya,

Hatay Province,

Turkey

Months Later

Midnight

_She pulled the scarf over her head, tucking her dark hair beneath it, before wrapping it around her neck and tying it quickly. Her heart was in her throat, and she glanced down, feeling someone tug on her skirt. Quickly, she scooped Aziza into her arms. _

_So far, the journey had been easy, almost simple, for hardly anyone checked passports or asked questions, and the family and their helpers kept to the fringes, fleeing at night, only stopping during the day in small towns that kept to their own counsel. But now... now they were going to cross into Syria, and the unrest that was beginning there was frightening. "Ima." Zara turned her gaze to her daughter, pressing a soft kiss to her head as the child held the small doll close. _

_Adelaida's older daughter Ivet had given it to her before they left, so that she would remember them and the time they'd spent at their home. Though Zara highly doubted Aziza would remember, it was the thought that mattered. "Are you ready?" She looked up as Adrian rushed to join them, and nodded. _

_"Vati!" _

_"Shh, hush, little love." He took the girl as she reached out for him, and settled her on his hip, pressing a kiss to her head. "A headscarf, seriously, Zara?" She glared at him. _

_"I want to blend in. The last time I stood out, I nearly lost my life, remember? You would do well to do the same, husband." _

_Adrian rolled his eyes as he took her hand. "I have gotten away with blending in my entire life, and it has never caused me any harm." _

_"Except when it did. I seem to remember being the reason you stood out." _

_He shook his head. "Yes, but the cause was admirable, my wife." He pressed a soft kiss to her lips. "Come on, they're waiting for us." She let him tug her towards the old Army truck that was carrying supplies, and was being driven by one of their helpers, and then helped her into the back before handing Aziza to her and joining them. Once they were settled in the back of the packing truck, she turned to him. "What? Zara, what's wrong?"_

_She swallowed. "We... we are sneaking... into a warring country, Adrian. How... how do we know that..." She glanced at Aziza. "That we will get out alive?" He sighed, shifting the child on his hip before tugging his wife closer._

_"We'll be okay, love. We've survived before-"_

_"But that was different, husband. And... even for a short time..." She glanced down at Aziza, who was playing with her doll. "it was just us. Until... until we conceived our Ziva... we did not have to worry about protecting anyone but ourselves. But now..." The child looked up as Zara gently brushed her fingers through the child's dark curls. "Now there is a small life to protect... what if Iza gets hurt?"_

_"Zara, that won't happen."_

_"But you do not-" He rested a finger to her lips. _

_"I won't let it happen." He clarified, removing his finger and pressing a soft kiss to her lips. Then, he pulled both his girls close and pressing kisses to each dark head of curls._

_"You cannot protect either of us from everything in the world, Adrian." She looked up at him as she lay against his chest. He screwed up his lips momentarily, thinking._

_"I can try." He replied, meeting her gaze._

_Two hours later, they were all jolted awake as the truck stopped. Voices could be heard, before shouting reached their ears, and Aziza clung to Zara, frightened. But before either she or Adrian could say a word to comfort the child, the canvas of the truck were thrown open and someone reached in, grabbing Adrian by the arm and yanking him from the back of the trunk. "Vati!Ani Ashuv!" She clung to Zara, who curled around her, holding the child close._

_"Shh... hush, love..."_

_But soon, the canvas was once more pulled aside, and Zara found herself staring into the faces of guerrilla fighters. After the end of the Arab-Israeli War of forty-eight that ended in an Israeli victory, Syria- who had suffered great loss of life- fell into civil war; a war that the Fromms just happened to find themselves crossing into, even though they had no choice. Their rescuers had warned them specifically, not to say a word about fleeing to Israel, less they wanted to join the countless murdered trying to flee the country._

_Zara barely registered the voices as she was pulled from the truck and Aziza ripped from her arms, screaming and crying. She didn't register where they'd taken Adrian, or why the truck had been stopped, where the man who'd been helping them was, or anything other than the throbbing of her head as she slowly picked herself off the ground. She could hear Aziza screaming for her, and slowly, sat up, only to have someone yank her head back._

_The accents weren't familiar, and she swallowed. "Please... we... we are not doing any harm... we just... we are just trying to..." She struggled to keep from breaking down, but the realization that she could lose another child was choking every beat of her heart. "We left Germany! Please! We are on neither side... we did not side with anyone, we just want to go to Lebanon!"_

_She tried to pay attention as the men talked, before she was shoved to the ground. As she pushed herself up, the cocking of a handgun met her ears, and she swallowed, tears dotting the road beneath her hands. Aziza's innocent screams reached her ears as a gunshot soon drowned out the last cries of her daughter. _


	150. Chapter 150

**Rifiuto: Non Miriena**

**A/N: Ev, if Zani doesn't want to talk, she _doesn't want_ to talk. You _have_ to give her time. Don't push her, or she'll shut down further. You know how she reacts to stress, and right now, you're stressing her out. Just leave her alone. Just... just give her space. I'm not asking you as your sister, I'm telling you as her_ doctor_- _stop trying to get her to talk_. Sorry guys, my brother just... he doesn't understand. Evan's never suffered from depression, so he doesn't understand what Zani's going through right now. He just... he needs to give her time, and he doesn't understand that giving her a few minutes to herself is _not_ giving her time. Here's the next chapter. Can this tide you all over while I go separate my brother and his fiance?- Licia**

**Thanks to Reader aka Sun Samurai for reviewing 149.**

_"I blamed myself for being alive when everybody else died ... What did I do wrong that I survived? ... It's totally illogical. But it's a very, very strong feeling and it's something I could not shake for a long, long time. ... It was only by starting to ask questions, to study the history of the Jewish people, to find out what madness led people to such a philosophy of murder. ... Those who survived must bear witness ..."_

_- Miklos Kanitz (1939 - 2006), Holocaust Survivor_

_Sofia, Bulgaria_

_Days Later_

The three waited on the doorstep of the house, silent, Hawkins on the left, Ziva on the right, Tim in the middle. Ziva had a tight grip on Tim's hand, and she cast more than one suspicious glance at the brunette; Hawkins's short, natural brown-hazelnut curls bounced around her face, giving her the appearance of a child, thanks also to her small- similar to Ziva's- features. The agent had spent the majority of her short life in the sun, giving her hair natural, sun-kissed highlights.

True to her word, Hawkins had managed to get them to Bulgaria in a matter of days, with what Tim was certain were several broken speeding laws and ignored regard to those around her. The two women had kept a stony silence between them the entire ride; the only thing Tim noticed was that whenever Hawkins opened her mouth to talk to him, Ziva would cut her off. Clearly, the Israeli had jealousy issues. Tim understood, really he did, but the officer didn't have to take it out on the young agent.

After several minutes, the door opened and a woman poked her head out. "Can I help you?" Tim was grateful for the sudden appearance and dissipation of tension he was caught in the middle of. He gave the older woman a small smile.

"Yes, are you Ivet Farkas?" The woman nodded.

"I am. Who are you?"

He pulled out his badge, showing her. "Agents McGee and Hawkins and Officer _Da_vid of NCIS. We were wondering if we could ask you a few questions."

"About?" Hawkins opened her mouth to take over and then stopped, unsure of what to say, when the woman shook her head. "If you don't know, then I can't answer them-"

They're about Adrian and Zara..." Tim said, pulling away from Ziva and reaching into his backpack. Ivet turned back to them. "... Fromm, and their daughter, Aziza. We're investigating a case on some missing artifacts that belonged to them that survived the Holocaust, and we were told that... that when the wall went up, your parents were one of the ones that helped them escape to Israel from Germany in nineteen-fifty."

She looked up, meeting his gaze. "They did. What do you want to know?"

"What happened to them after they left your place?"

Ivet swallowed. "They fled to Turkey, I think." She turned to head back inside when she stopped. "Come in. I'll fix some coffee."

The three investigators soon found themselves sitting on the sofa in the living room of Ivet's home, listening as she explained how the underground came about, and why her parents had insisted on- what so many in Sofia saw- this "lost cause of the refugees". Tim took a deep breath, pulling something out of his bag and handing it to her.

"We've been able to figure out that the Fromms passed through Sofia sometime in early or mid-fifty; they stayed at your parents' home for a week or so, and then moved on." Ivet took the file Tim held out to her; she quickly flipped it open, gaze moving over the file slowly. Eventually, she stopped on the screenshot Abby had managed to pull from the home videos- the one of Adrian and Zara at the beach with Aziza. Though the figures were grainy, she still recognized them, after all these years.

"She was... four, I think her mother said. Beautiful girl. Quiet. But by the time they left... she was... smiling and laughing and... followed Lala and I around like a puppy. It was... almost as if we had another sister." She took a deep breath. "They... they were going to Israel, I think. Mr. Fromm, he... he said jobs were not good in Germany at the time, and that they could find work in Israel." Tim glanced at both women, before getting up and going to the older woman.

"Ms. Farkas, do you know what happened the night they left? Do you remember it?"

Ivet glanced at the image again, before looking at each of them. "I could hear voices downstairs. They were... frantic, and someone was crying. I got out of bed and snuck downstairs, hiding in the hallway that connected the kitchen and living room. They were all in the kitchen, talking- the adults, and Aziza was there. Her mother was sitting at the table, and... and then I realized she was the one crying."

"Zara." Tim whispered, kneeling in front of her and taking her hands, giving her the strength to continue with such a painful memory; Ivet nodded at the clarification.

"He took her hands and knelt to look at her, he wasn't mean when he spoke, he was..." She stopped, meeting Tim's gaze.

"_Zara, we have to do this, we don't have a choice." _

_"But what if something happens? What if... what if I lose you? Or Aziza?"_

_"Shh. No, don't think like that. That's not going to happen, okay? It won't happen, I promise."_

"He was so sure they would be okay." Ivet took a deep breath. "Mama told them to write when they reached Israel, and they said they would, but... but we never heard from them."


	151. Chapter 151

**Rifiuto: Non Miriena**

**A/N: I swear, if he doesn't leave Zani alone and let her work this out in her head, I'm gonna strangle him... - Licia**

_"To live, a man needs food, water, and a sharp mind."_

_- Louis Zamperini (1917 - 2014)_

_The first thing she registered was the cool material beneath her cheek. As her gaze adjusted and she pushed herself onto her elbow, she realized she was no longer... wherever they'd been when the truck had been stopped, but in a tent. Her head was pounding and spots appeared in front of her eyes. What the hell was she doing on a pallet in a tent-_

_She sat up with a gasp, suddenly remembering where she was and what had happened. Her heart stopped, as the blast of a gunshot silenced her daughter's screams..._

_"You are up." Her gaze shifted as the flap of the tent was lifted and someone entered- an older woman dressed in a long skirt and blouse in sandals, with a shawl over her head, hiding her graying hair- carrying a cup and a bowl. She lowered herself beside the pallet, holding the cup out to her. "Drink." But Zara pushed the things away._

_"P... please... where am I? Where... are my family... my... my husband and my... my daughter..." She choked on the words as the woman pushed the cup into her hands._

_"Drink and gather strength in your heart and I will tell you." Slowly, with shaking hands, she did as told, choking on the bitter concoction as it slid down her throat. She coughed, pressing her wrist to her mouth._

_"What is that?" The woman pushed it back towards her mouth._

_"Healing potion. It will mend the bones you suffered from the beating the Syrians gave you."_

_"Beating?" The woman nodded._

_"Ken. Badly injured, you were."_

_"Please, tell me what happened? The... the last thing I remember is... we were in Syria..."_

_"Shh." The older woman held a finger to her own lips, simulating that Zara needed to quiet. "You were not in Syria. You had crossed into Lebanon, and were caught by guerrillas."_

_"How did-"_

_"My husband and his men were passing through when they saw what was going on. Brought you and your family with them when they returned."_

_"Family?" Zara asked, dropping the cup, sending the rest of the liquid spilling over the floor. "My daughter and my... my husband... where are they... the last thing I remember..." She choked on a sob. "Please tell me my baby made it... I could not bear losing another..." She stopped, clamping her mouth shut as tears began to slip down her cheeks._

_"They are here. Recovering."_

_"Can I see them, please?" A moment passed before the woman studied her, checking her eyes and studying her skin before she nodded. Quickly, Zara climbed to her feet, before stumbling. Considering she hadn't moved in the last several... she wasn't sure if it was hours or days... and so she was unsteady on her feet. After a moment, she followed the older woman out of the tent, and was surprised to find herself surrounded by what appeared to be a small village-_

_"Israel."_

_She turned to the woman. "What?"_

_"You and your family are in Israel."_

_"Israel?" Zara asked, not fully believing it. The woman nodded. _

_"Ken. You are in Israel." Zara opened her mouth to say something else, but couldn't figure out the proper way to ask. "We are the Domari, and you are free to leave whenever you wish." And without a word, she excused herself, disappearing among her people, as several children and teenagers rushed towards Zara, all eager to study her messy hairstyle and- to them- strange clothing. Zara looked around, too shocked to ask them to not touch her, as they reached to run their hands over her nicely tailored skirt and blouse and through her hair. One of the girls grabbed her arm, pushing the sleeve of her blouse up, revealing the numbers on her arm. Several children gathered around to read the numbers permanently staining her skin._

_"That is enough! Let her be!" The children scattered, and Zara turned, to find an older man, dressed in loose trousers and a tunic make his way towards her. "I am sorry, they have not seen such clothing as yours before." She nodded, keeping silent, before glancing over her shoulder, looking for the woman who'd taken care of her. "My wife, Yael. She is the healer in our tribe."_

_"Please, have you... have you seen my... my daughter, she... she is only about..." But the man held up a hand, silencing her as he stepped aside. Zara turned her gaze to where he had been standing, and she watched as someone got closer- "It... but..." She burst into tears, glancing back at the man before making her way towards him. "Adrian!"_

_As she got closer, she realized it was indeed her husband, and he had Aziza in his arms. She plowed into them, throwing her arms around his neck and kissing him deeply. Minutes passed, as she struggled to speak before finally giving up and settling for kissing them both repeatedly. "I thought I had lost you... both of you..." Adrian shook his head, shocked into silence. He let Zara take Aziza into her arms, holding the girl tight in her arms as the child clung to her. "Oh my baby... oh thank God you are okay... I thought I had..." She broke down, pressing firm, messy kisses to the child's face, brushing the girl's dark, messy curls from her face. _

_Eventually, the small family was approached by Yael, beckoned for them to follow her. She led them through the village towards a tent. Once they were seated within the lodgings, she turned to them. "You are searching for a home because you no longer possess one." The couple shared a glance. "The numbers on your arms leave you both in the past, when you long for a future."_

_"How do you-" But Adrian stopped as she held out her arm, exposing familiar black ink. "You were in the camps." She nodded._

_"I was one of a handful to survive, and after rescue, we came down here, to Israel. We made a life, as you are looking for a life." She reached out, brushing her fingers over Aziza's hair; the child sat curled up in Zara's lap, watching the older woman. "For this child, born of your womb-"_

_"I did... I cannot..." But she silenced Zara, holding a finger to her lips._

_"She will grow up in times of hardship, and she needs a stable home, for she is not just a child of your womb, but your heart and soul as well. You both must do right for her." She gave them a small smile. "You will find what you desire at the seventh well, not far from here."_

_"How far is this... 'seventh well'?" Adrian asked, narrowing his eyes. Yael chuckled softly._

_"I can see within your gaze that you do not trust easily. But I assure you, you are merely a few miles from the seventh well. It will take you perhaps a day to reach, and we will be happy to provide you with provisions and a way to get there as it is quite a long walk."_

_Adrian and Zara shared a glance. After a moment, Zara turned to the woman. "What... what is the... the name of this... place?"_

_Yael gave her a small smile. "The Israeli people call it Be'er Sheva."_


	152. Chapter 152

**Rifiuto: Non Miriena**

_"... how important it is in life not necessarily to be strong but to feel strong, to measure yourself at least once, to find yourself at least once..."_

_- Primo Levi (1919 - 1987)_

_Be'er Sheva, Israel_

_Haroa Farm _

_Two Weeks Later_

She couldn't believe it; their search for the Fromms had brought them back to Israel, to her hometown- the very city she'd been born in...

Ziva leaned against the door frame, looking out at the desert around them. She'd grown up around this desert; it had been her playground, her jungle gym, her dollhouse. It had been her refuge from her father, from her sister, her brother... the desert had been her safe haven.

She glanced over her shoulder, but Tim hadn't yet returned from calling Gibbs. She let her gaze move back to the desert before her. A part of her couldn't believe that this search they'd been on for better part of a year and half, that had started in America, ended here, in Israel. And in that time, she'd had an affair with her partner, gotten pregnant and given birth to twins, met a man who ran underground escapes beneath the Berlin Wall, walked the paths of Auschwitz that hundreds of other Jews- as well as her own family- had walked, had followed the escape route the Fromms had taken...

And it all led back to Be'er Sheva.

"Well, he wished us good luck, hard as that is to believe." She glanced over her shoulder as Tim entered the room and made his way towards her. Hawkins had dropped them off at Be'er Sheva, giving them plane tickets back to Berlin, thanks to E.J., saying that she'd see them when the case closed, and that she had to get back to work, but wished them luck. Frankly, Ziva was happy the younger agent was gone.

She hmm-ed softly as Tim slid his arms around her waist and squeezed gently. "You're lost in thought."

"Just thinking." He nodded, pressing a kiss to her head before pulling away and heading back into the living room.

"Well, I was thinking, that maybe we could head out tomorrow and find the house the Fromms lived in." He replied, taking a seat on the sofa and opening up the notebook with the notes he'd taken weeks earlier. They'd managed to track down the grandson of an old gypsy woman who'd met the Fromms when he was just a boy of four- he'd informed them that his grandfather and several other men were returning to the tribe after a journey, and they'd come across guerrilla soldiers attacking a small army truck carrying refugees- the very refugees Tim and Ziva were searching for.

The gypsy men had brought the four travelers with them, seeing to their wounds and nursing them back to health. The children of the tribe had been curious about the strangers with the funny clothing and blue numbers on their arms. He'd even been able to give them the number tattooed on the woman's arm-

_A-169537_

They had looked the number up, but had found nothing except basic information on the woman to whom the number had belonged:

Dark hair.

Dark eyes.

Female.

Jew.

A description that described every woman in Israel, that described her and her sister, her mother, her aunt... such a generic description for a people of whom the Germans blamed everything on.

_Dark hair, dark eyes, female, Jew. Dark hair, dark eyes, female, Jew..._ She shivered, wrapping her arms around herself and turning from the view outside. Tim was looking through the notes they'd gathered, lost in the work. After a moment, Ziva plopped down onto the sofa, resting her head against her knuckles as she propped her elbow on the back of the sofa. The small hotel they were staying in had only two rooms; the other room was currently unoccupied, which suited the two agents just fine, they liked the quiet, and it wasn't like they hadn't ever shared a bed before. They did just have twins, after all.

"You are thinking too hard."

"Am I?" He asked, flipping another page and scanning over something before turning back to the page he'd been looking at previously. She nodded, biting her lip.

"You get these little creases between your eyes when you are thinking really hard about something."

"Hadn't... noticed."

She nodded. "I have noticed." He didn't even look up at her blatant declaration of her observation skills; instead, he continued to flip pages. It was her turn to frown. "What are you looking at?"

"This doesn't make any sense."

"What does not make sense?" She scooted closer, leaning to look over his shoulder.

"It... the man... that gypsy we met a couple weeks ago, he gave me the description of the house the Fromms lived in, but I checked Google Maps and I didn't find anything; I even had Abby check and she found nothing. And it takes a lot for Abby not to find anything." Ziva cocked her head, before leaning over his shoulder and reading the description.

"I can find it." He raised an eyebrow.

"_You_ can find it?" She nodded. "Ziva, babe, I know that you're probably some brilliant tracker in Mossad, but this house is not on any map. It's not even in the registry, which means it can't possibly exist. I think we've reached a dead end. Finally." And he set the notebook down and got up, slipping outside onto the covered, gravel patio. Ziva watched him leave, trying hard to ignore the nickname he'd used for her.

She snatched up the notebook and read through the directions and description. After a moment, she got up, going out to the patio, where Tim was sitting at the small table, watching the sky, lost in thought. "I can find it, Tim."

"Find what, Ziva?" He didn't remove his gaze from the sky overhead, stretching out before them, racing with the desert beyond their small hotel.

"The house. The Fromms' house."

He sighed. "And _what_ makes you say that, Ziva?" She pursed her lips, before moving towards him and settling in his lap. She held up the notebook, pointing to the city name.

"You forget, _Timothy_." Sparks raced up his spine as her mouth, tongue and vocal chords caressed every letter of his given name. She glanced at his mouth, grinning as she leaned close, pressing her forehead to his so that they were literally eye-to-eye. "Be'er Sheva is my hometown. I was born and_ grew up_ _here_."


	153. Chapter 153

**Rifiuto: Non Miriena**

**A/N: Well, I had my brother look through the... 100+ pages he's written out for this... couldn't read his own writing. You know your handwriting is bad when _you_ can't even read it, and _you're_ the one that_ wrote_ it. - Licia**

_"To convince oneself that one has the right to live decently takes time."_

_- Eva Peron (1919 - 1952)_

Be'er Sheva, Israel

_"Adrian, you cannot be serious."_

_He turned to her, shielding his eyes from the sun with his hand as he watched his wife and daughter from where they stood next to the car. As promised, the Domari helped them get to the town of Be'er Sheva; once there, they'd been able to register as DPs searching for a home country thanks to the UNRRA- the United Nations Relief and Rehabilitation Administration. And while they now had 'permission' to live in Israel, they still lacked the one thing absolutely needed. _

_A home. _

_It was the one thing Adrian had wanted to give Zara since their "marriage" that long ago day in that cabin, as the Gestapo broke in and sent them to the trains that took them to the camps. It was the only thing he really, truly wanted to give Zara- a home of her own. One that she could decorate and run as she saw fit, where Aziza could grow and play and where they could feel as though they weren't trespassing. Where they could call it theirs. _

_"Of course I'm serious, Zara, my love." He replied, going to her. She shifted Aziza on her hip, raising an eyebrow. "This, is going to be our home." But his wife simply shook her head, pursing her lips. _

_"It is a shack, Adrian." _

_"It's not a shack-"_

_"Yes, it is." _

_He sighed. "Zara-"_

_"No." She shook her head, eyes closing briefly against the sun. "I am not going to raise our daughter in a shack. I would rather raise her in an apartment- even a small one- in Be'er Sheva proper as opposed to... this." _

_He turned back to the house they'd found while exploring their new home country. "So it... needs a little work." _

_She scoffed, causing him to turn back to find her eyes wide. "A little? Hitler himself would not live in this, husband!" He glared at her, and she returned it. "Besides, how do you suggest we buy this? We have barely any money to either of our names-" _

_"I checked with the UNRRA- they are to provide housing to refugees of the Holocaust. I asked about the house and they said if it was housing, they would pay for it." She raised an eyebrow. _

_"And when did you-"_

_"Last week." He replied, sliding his arms around her waist. "Zara, please. All I want... all I have ever wanted... was to give you a home." She reached up, brushing her fingers against his cheek._

_"If I am with you, Adrian, then I have a home." He shook his head._

_"No. A real home, one for only us. Just the three of us. A place that's ours. Zara, please, let me do this for you. For us." She sighed, letting his words sink in, before meeting his gaze._

_"Fine. But I personally want nothing to do with this." He grinned, catching her chin and kissing her quickly before pressing a kiss to Aziza's head._

_When they returned to town that day, Adrian dropped Zara and Aziza off at the small apartment they were staying in- provided by the UNRRA- while they looked for a house, and then went in search of... well, he wasn't sure what. He looked through various shops, finally finding a carpenter. He explained the situation, asking various questions and listening as the man explained that the first thing needed was to draw up blueprints for whatever he wanted to build- which he showed Adrian how to do then and there._

_Adrian, whose mind soaked up everything and anything he learned- good and bad- immediately set to work, once he'd bought the supplies for the blueprints. He then went in search of the small coffee shop they'd passed days earlier, and settled at a table, becoming lost in the warmth of the air around him as he tried to think of what the house should look like._

_What had Zara told him once? Something about the outdoors? Oh, that was right, how she'd longed to go outside, back when she and Eva had been hiding with his family in Berlin during the war. She hadn't been able to go outside, and so had resigned herself to peeking out the living room window, desperate for even the weakest rays of sunlight to kiss her skin._

_That was the first thing he was going to give her- a porch, that she could sit on all the time, day or night, with no restrictions. A place where she could go to relax and think, and escape the stresses of motherhood._

_He sighed, thanking the girl as she set his cup before him and a small bag with a couple sweets for his girls on the table, and then returned to the blueprints. In the short time they'd been in Be'er Sheva, both he and Zara had found work doing odd jobs, and they were able to put a little money away. He tapped the pencil against the table._

_What else would they need in a house? A kitchen and living room, of course, as well as a bathroom and a couple bedrooms- one for them and one for Aziza and one for-_

_He stopped, forcing himself to remember that their little Ziva hadn't even had the chance to live. He took a deep breath. He wanted to give the house more than two bedrooms, just in case- he chuckled, and returned to his work. Just in case Conrad came to visit. Yes, three would be fine._


	154. Chapter 154

**Rifiuto: Non Miriena**

**A/N: So, since my darling baby brother couldn't read his own writing, he sorted through what he had left, and gave me the... *quickly counts* 50 most legible pages- and I say legible loosely- he could read and told me just to follow them. I can barely read them, but I'll try.- Licia**

_"__My God, I knew this would happen. You've come.__"_

_-Hermine Braunsteiner (1919 - 1999), the Mare of Majdanek_

_Be'er Sheva, Israel_

_The Next Morning_

_9:30 A.M._

"This is the house?"

Ziva nodded, pushing her sunglasses atop her head and turning to him. "This is the house."

Tim raised an eyebrow, and after a moment, slammed the driver's side door and joined her. It wasn't what they'd been expecting, it honestly wasn't. It was small, made of wood and brick, whitewashed, with a green door- which surprised them both. In all honesty, they'd been expecting... well, they weren't sure what, but... something different. Like an adobe or something similar. Not a little stone house out in the olive groves, a mile from the city.

This had been the furthest thing from either of their minds.

Ziva glanced at him. "Well?"

He shrugged. "I don't see a car. There couldn't be anyone home. Or no one lives here anymore." Ziva shook her head, studying the house.

"No. Someone lives here."

"How can you tell?" She glanced at him.

"The sign." She made her way towards it, and after a moment, Tim followed, studying the sign hanging by the door. It was beautifully carved with a Jewish star and an oak leaf entwined together at the top. "Jewish star of David." She whispered. "But... I do not... recognize the other symbol."

"Oak leaf. National tree of Germany." The pair shared a glance. Tim studied the sign. He had yet to learn Hebrew, as was, he only knew a few words. "What does it say?"

Ziva studied it for a moment. "_HaMa'eiven Yavin_."

"Which_ means_?" She turned to him.

"_Those Who Know_..." She glanced back at the sign. "_Understand_."

Tim shrugged. "Interesting greeting. Most people usually have a sign that says _'Welcome_'." Ziva shook her head.

"No, this... this has to do with the _Shoah._"

"Now how do you know that?"

"Because my Aunt Nettie says that all the time, whenever she starts to think back on what happened, she will say that." She bit her lip, suddenly turning around. "We should go."

"What? Why? You just said that-"

"Because we are trespassing on private property, Tim!" She cried, turning back to him. "Because whoever now owns this house is not here right now, and it would not be right for us to go poking about! They probably do not even know the Fromms existed!"

"Ziva, we've come this far, we can't just turn back now!"

"So what do you suggest, Tim? That we break in and go looking around a house that probably did not even belong to the Fromms-"

Neither noticed the front door open and someone stick their head out, brought to the door by the shouting. "Um... excus... ex... excuse me!" The two bickering law enforcement officials turned at the voice, both surprised to see a young woman, maybe in her mid-to-late teens at the door. "Ah, can... can I _help_ you?" She studied the pair, startled to find them there, but even more curious to find them arguing in their front yard.

The pair shared a glance, before returning to the door. She watched as the man pulled something from his pocket, opening it. "I"m Agent McGee and this is Officer _Da_vid of NCIS. We're looking for someone."

The girl leaned against the door frame, watching him. "Who are you looking for, Agent... McGee?" She played with the cuticles of her nails, silently fascinated by the man's foreign accent- English. No, American. Yes, he was definitely American.

He glanced at his partner, before taking a deep breath. "We're looking for Adrian or Zara Fromm." The girl suddenly looked up from her nails. She straightened, pushing herself away from the door frame.

"A... Adrian or Zara?" They nodded.

"Or... Aziza Fromm, if either of them are not available." The woman added. The girl nodded, biting her lip. She glanced behind her, before calling out,

"_Ima_?" She got no response. With a quick glance back at the couple, she slipped inside and shut the door. The couple shared a glance, before Tim slipped his hands into his pockets.

"Well, this was a waste."

"Waste of what?" Ziva asked, furrowing a brow. He rolled his eyes.

"Time." She nodded.

"Oh. You are right. Clearly, we have the wrong address." She kicked at the dirt beneath her feet. "So... what now?"

Tim shrugged, sighing. "Head back to the hotel, pack up, catch our flight back to Berlin. Collect the twins and... go back to the States, explain everything to the team and Director Shepard and hope your father doesn't kill me, even though he clearly will."

Ziva sighed, glancing back at the sign hanging on the door. "I thought-" Tim stopped, turning back to her.

"Thought what, Ziva?" She shrugged.

"Just... that maybe..." She met his gaze, unable to hide the disappointment in her eyes. "That maybe we had_ finally_ solved this case."

Tim chuckled softly, holding out a hand. "Some cases aren't solvable." She nodded.

"I know. I just... this is one that... I _wish_ we had solved. I _wish_ we had found out what happened to them... to all three of them." She took his hand, squeezing, and let him lead her back to the car, when the front door opened again.

"_Hey_, where are you going?"

The pair turned back, to see the girl leaning in the doorway, staring at them, confused as to why they were leaving. "We asked about... and you..." Ziva started, but soon, another woman appeared at the door, much older than the young woman who'd first answered. She was considerably older, most likely in her late fifties or early sixties, with dark brown hair streaked with grey. Slowly, the pair returned to the doorway, as the woman spoke.

"Neda told me you are looking for someone?"

Ziva nodded. "_Ken_. Yes. We are. An... Aziza Fromm. We were wondering if you have seen her?"

The woman studied the officer for a moment, a small smile growing on her lips. "I have seen Aziza Fromm."

"That's great." Tim replied. "Where?"

The older woman smiled softly at him. "Right here._ I_ am Aziza Fromm."


	155. Chapter 155

**Rifiuto: Non Miriena**

_"I shall always remember that smile. From what world did it come from?"_

_- Elie Wiesel (1928 - )_

Be'er Sheva, Israel

_"Ouch!" _

_"I told you to be careful, my wife." _

_"How can I be careful when I cannot even see where I am walking?" As if to make her point, she stumbled, managing to catch herself before they went head over heels. _

_"Just... trust me. You do trust me, don't you?" She sighed. _

_"Of course I trust you, husband." _

_He grinned, and finally stopped her, leaning close. His breath caressed the soft shell of her ear as he spoke, removing his hands, his tone gentle. "Open them." He watched as her dark eyes snapped open and she gasped, drinking in the sight before her. She found herself standing in what had once been nothing more than a shack, as she'd so nicely characterized it; now though, there wasn't a single thing to remind her of the crumbling building they'd first stumbled upon._

_Adrian had spent countless hours working on this project, determined to give Zara the home she'd longed for for years. She'd watched him dash out of the small apartment they'd been in, telling her he was going to work, when he'd really been heading out here, to work on tearing the walls down and stripping the roof and floors until the skeleton had been exposed and then cleared away. She'd kept her own counsel, knowing how touchy a subject it was._

_But now, as she looked around at the house they were currently standing in, she began to realize that this was where he'd been disappearing to on the days when he couldn't find work. For not only had he torn down and built the house he'd designed for her, but he'd also worked on building all the furniture lovingly by hand. The carpenter he'd befriended had watched over the work meticulously, before finally deciding that the young German was doing fine on his own._

_She turned to him, eyes wide with shock. "You did this? He nodded. "All of this?" Another nod. "For-" She stopped, and he grinned, reaching up and taking her face in his hands. _

_"You." He mouthed, pulling her to him. She wrapped her arms tight around his neck, and slowly, he moved one hand down to wrap around her waist and pull her closer, lifting her lightly off her feet. When they finally broke away, she rested her forehead to his, one hand moving to gently stroke his cheek._

_"You did this... for me?" He nodded, breathless._

_"All for you, wife." She nudged her nose against his, closing her eyes as her lips found his and she drank slowly from him, savoring his kiss. He slid one hand into her hair, tangling around the messy dark curls he loved so, holding her steady as the kiss grew in intensity. Slowly, she opened her eyes, pulling away. She shook her head, struggling to speak._

_"I... I do not... I..." He chuckled at the speechlessness his surprise had thrown his wife into._

_"Come on. I'll give you a tour." He set her gently back on her feet and took her hand, lacing their fingers as he tugged her into the house and began showing her around. "The kitchen is directly off the front door- with enough space to cook whatever you wish. And the living room opens to it- so we can keep an eye on Iza." He led her to the back of the house. "The bathroom is at the front of the hall to the left," He showed her the first bedroom- the guest room- on the right. "and this... for when Con comes to visit, because he's determined to." She giggled. "And Iza's room is here." He tugged her further down the hall towards a second door, pushing it open. Though it was not yet decorated, the bed and various dressers were already waiting to be used. Zara drank it in, before he tugged her down the hall, further back. "And this is our room." He rested his forehead to hers briefly, and she giggled._

_But her giggle soon turned into a gasp as he pushed open the door and stepped aside. She slowly made her way into the room, to find a beautiful, hand-carved bed in the center of the room, pressed back against the wall, between the windows. A boudoir sat near the closet, and there was a small reading nook by the far window, with a desk in the corner. It was decorated in soft hues of blue and green; Adrian had wanted it to be as relaxing as possible for her. On the bed, was a bedspread of soft, heather grey- the only alternate hue within a room of calm and tranquility. As Zara ran her fingers over the bedspread, he sighed._

_"All it needs is a quilt, and it'll be complete." She met his gaze._

_"A quilt?" He nodded. "What kind?" He shrugged, wandering over to her, hands in his pockets._

_"Whatever you want to make."_

_"So I will make it?" She asked, sliding her arms around his neck when he got close enough._

_"Of course. Because your quilts are beautiful." He kissed her softly, before pulling away. "I have one more surprise for you." He said, holding up a finger. She raised an eyebrow. "Come on." And he tugged her out of the room._

_She watched as he pulled open the double doors at the back of the living room, revealing a porch. "Oh Adrian-" Eyes wide, she followed him out onto the porch, eyes drinking in the olive groves that stretched out before them, waiting for Aziza to run and play in them._

_"Now, you can come outside whenever you wish. And there is another door at the of the porch, just in case you want to make a quick escape from parent-" But she launched herself at him, forcing him to swallow his words as their mouths met. He stumbled back, catching his balance against the wooden railing as his arms moved down to circle her waist. When she finally pulled away, she reached down, taking his hands and pressing kisses to his palms, but she stopped. _

_Slowly, she turned his hands palms up, revealing calloused, almost hardened skin. Worry filled her eyes, and she gently rand her fingers along his palms, her soft touch caressing each healed blister and scar. "Your hands..." Her breath faded, and she tore her gaze away, turning it to his face. "Oh Adrian, your beautiful hands." _

_If there was one thing Zara absolutely loved about her husband, it was his hands more than anything. They may have been bigger than hers and his fingers longer, but they were gentle, soft. They were able to comfort and caress at the same time, they often held her hand or caught her around the waist, held her face and brushed through her hair- and on nights when they lay together in bed, heart rates lowering and bodies cooling, his hands would trace patterns on her skin-_

_Yes, if anything, Adrian's hands made her feel safe, protected, loved._

_He just shook his head. "It's worth it. Every scar and blister and bruise and callous... it's worth it." _

_"Why?" He reached up, taking her face in his hands. _

_"Because you are worth it." _


	156. Chapter 156

**Rifiuto: Non Miriena**

_"We must be listened to: above and beyond our personal experience, we have collectively witnessed a fundamental unexpected event, fundamental precisely because unexpected, not foreseen by anyone. It happened, therefore it can happen again: this is the core of what we have to say. It can happen, and it can happen everywhere."_

_- Primo Levi (1919 - 1987)_

_Be'er Sheva, Israel_

_10:30 A.M._

"_You_ are Aziza?" Tim asked. The woman nodded. "You're their _daughter_. _Adrian_ and _Zara_'s daughter?"

"Adopted. But yes, I am their daughter."

The couple shared a surprised glance. They had known from their research that Aziza had been adopted- illegally, but still- but _meeting_ her, here, now, when they had thought she'd died... well, after all these months of mystery, it was a _shock_. They had the sneaking suspicion that both Adrian and Zara were long dead- if not, they'd both be in their eighties- but they'd also wrongly assumed that Aziza was too. They hadn't even_ considered_ that the little girl in the home videos might still be alive.

"Is there another reason you came here?" They turned back to her, and after a moment, Tim nodded.

"We are... investigating a murder in Washington, D.C., and the victims were... well, they were traders of Holocaust artifacts on the black market turned..." He thought a moment. "artifact_ finders_ for the National Holocaust Museum." Aziza nodded, silent. Tim reached into his bag, pulling out the files and holding them out to her. "They were... researching your parents when they were murdered."

"And this... couple. Did they find anything?"

"Not much. We found the majority of this, along with the things your parents hid- the things they were looking for for the museum." Aziza nodded, and turned to head inside.

"Please, come in." A moment passed, before they did as told. They stepped into a house that was caught between past, present and future. Though it possessed modern amenities, it still held a great deal of spirit- spirit first instilled within the walls by Adrian and Zara themselves. They had created a home, filled with love and happiness and freedom, a place for their daughter to grow, a future of_ their_ choosing, not someone else's, and decorated it simply, but beautifully.

"Zara could never have children, thanks to Dr. Mengele." Tim whispered, as they took seats on the sofa. "So they adopted you in... forty-eight or so. After Adrian stumbled upon you walking home from work, not long after the wall went up." Aziza nodded, taking a seat in the armchair. She slowly opened the file of evidence they'd gathered, leafing through it slowly.

"I barely remember that night. Just that it was cold, and then someone was scooping me up and wrapping me in their coat." She continued to flip through the files, stopping on the stills Abby had managed to print from the videos and send to them, and the photographs Conrad had given them.

The photograph she was looking at was one she'd never seen before- of her parents, in the living room of a house she'd never seen, sitting on the floor in front of a fireplace. They were wrapped in a blanket, close together, his arm around her waist, as they talked together quietly, ignoring all around them but each other. Zara's hair was pulled back in a messy bun at the nape of her neck, small strands sticking to her skin. They were staring at each other, lost in each others' eyes, small smiles on their faces. Were she to guess, she'd say they were in their late teens or early twenties- mere children back then, forced to grow up in dangerous times of war. They were beautiful, and the love they shared, evident in that single shot, taken on the day of Corrina's final birthday.

"She was beautiful." Tim and Ziva looked up as the girl that had first opened the door climbed onto the opposite side of the sofa, watching them. Slowly, Aziza looked up. "This is my granddaughter, Neda. And-" She looked up as two more children- both in their teens or early twenties- stepped through the double doors leading onto the back porch, laughing.

As the girl turned, the sunlight caught her just right, and for a brief moment, Tim swore he was staring Zara, with Adrian by her side, and then the sun shifted, and the kids' features morphed. "_Savta_? Who are these people?" Aziza held out a hand.

"Come here my darlings." Slowly, the two went to her, wary of the agents. "This is Agent McGee and Officer David of NCIS in Washington, D.C."

"America?" She met the girl's gaze, nodding.

"They... have information on... my parents." She bit her lip, turning back to the couple. "These are my grandchildren- Anneliese, Levi, and Neda."

"How many grandchildren do you have, Aziza?" Ziva asked, studying the three teenagers. The older woman smiled softly.

"Five. Two sets of twins and then Corrina." Tim cocked his head.

"Corrina?"

Aziza nodded. "Yes. But... she passed as a child, killed in a Palestinian air strike."

"And then there's Zee." The boy, Levi, replied.

"Zee?" Tim asked, and Aziza whispered for Anneliese to retrieve something from the bookshelf. Once she had, she went to the agents, holding the photograph out. Tim too the photograph, feeling his partner lean close to look also. The four remaining children were gathered together on the same sofa, smiling at the camera. Anneliese pointed to each as she spoke, moving backwards.

"Levi, Neda, Ziva and I."

"Ziva?"

"_Ken_. It is a family name." She took the photo back, returning it to the bookcase. "_Savta_'s older sister was-"

"Named Ziva." The officer replied. "We... we found entries in Zara's diary..." She grabbed Tim's bag, pulling out the artifacts they'd found, opening the small diary once she'd pulled on a pair of gloves to keep the oils on her hands from damaging the brittle paper, finding the entry. She held it out to the girl. "She talks... about the night she was born... and how she never even breathed once she came into the world." The girl took the diary, cautiously, her dark eyes scanning the words.

_"'... a beautiful mixture of her father and I... who will never grow or live, had she ever even had the chance. I brought her... into this world with Dr. Perl's help... in the hospital of Auschwitz... and the crematoriums are her grave... just as they will soon be mine... I would rather... die a thousand deaths within the fires of Hell, and be with my family, with my husband and daughter... than live one more day in this Hell on earth the Germans have named Auschwitz...'"_ Ziva had read the meager diary cover to cover, page by page, until she could recite it in her sleep. The way Zara talked of how she longed for death- it broke her heart, and was a sensation all too familiar to the Mossad officer.

"Zara survived Auschwitz, and Adrian, Berga de le Elster. They say the treatment of the Jews in the camps was bad," Tim shook his head. "Adrian suffered unspeakable horrors at the hands of his own people. He was seen as a traitor to the Reich for helping the Jewish cause, for hiding Zara and her sister from the Nazis. The Germans... they punished their own for greater 'injustices' than the Jews." Tim whispered, meeting Aziza's gaze.

"I... I didn't know they survived the _Shoah_." Anneliese said, returning to her grandmother and handing her the diary. Tim nodded.

"_Ima_ and_ Vati_... they didn't talk about it. But I remember the numbers on their arms-"

"The ID numbers." Ziva whispered, accepting the cup of coffee Levi handed to her and Tim. Aziza nodded.

"I asked about the numbers when I turned fourteen. Ima refused to say a word, and Vati just rolled up his sleeve, letting me look, but he didn't speak. And when I asked, he just, kissed my forehead and whispered,

"_'In time, you will learn of the horrors Ima and I survived, my little love, but you not learn them from us.'_" Tim whispered, surprised to hear the words tumble from his lips.

"Yes. That is exactly what he told me. How did you know, Agent McGee?" He shook his head.

"I don't... I didn't-"

"_Savta_?" Giggling reached their ears, followed by two sets of footsteps, as a young woman, in her early twenties entered, a young man in tow. "I'm home! And I brought-" She stopped. "Who are these people? _Savta_? Did something happen?"

"Sit down, Ziva."

"Who are these people? Is something wrong? _Why are they here_?"

"Ziva, _sit down!_" After a moment, the girl and her companion took seats on the floor, silent. "This is Ziva. Anneliese's twin, and her boyfriend, Andrew O'Reilly." She turned to the agents. "This is Agent McGee and-"

"They're feds?" The girl asked, startled.

"Ziva, shut up and let her talk!" Anneliese snapped, and the girl did as told. It was clear, which of the sisters ran things.

After a moment, the two investigators stood, formally introducing themselves. "Timothy McGee, NCIS and this is my partner," He glanced at her, biting his lip. "Ziva _Da_vid."

"Ziva?" The others startled, but Aziza nodded, a knowing smile on her face.

"Well, it seems that ours is not the only family that name runs in."

"Wait, so you're also NCB..." The girl on the sofa asked and Tim turned to her. She was young, about sixteen or so, with long dark hair and blue eyes. She wrapped her arms around herself, watching them cautiously.

"NCIS. Naval Criminal Investigative Service. We're based in Washington, D.C., but we do have offices all around the world." Tim clarified, and the girl on the floor looked up at him, surprised.

"In America?"

Anneliese rolled her eyes. "_Catch up_, Zee." She turned to the officer. "And you are from?"

"Ziva _Da_vid, Mossad. But I am a... liaison officer working with NCIS, to bridge the gap between America and Israel. On the orders of... my father, Deputy Director _Da_vid." She swallowed.

"You are Israeli." Levi said, leaning against the back of the armchair his grandmother was sitting in. Ziva chuckled, turning from him and studying the house.

"Very good that you made such a... simple... connection. Mossad, Israeli. I was trained as an assassin, but I am more than an assassin; I have been with NCIS for more than a year, now. I am also an investigator." She turned back to them, confused as to the looks on their faces. After a moment, Levi gently touched Aziza's shoulder, leaning down to whisper something in her ear. She nodded.

"Please, Office _Da_vid, Agent McGee, sit. My daughter will be home soon. You have a lot to tell me, and I have a lot to tell you." Aziza studied the two as they returned to the sofa, waiting. "And... if we run out of time, perhaps you will be willing to stay for dinner."


	157. Chapter 157

**Rifiuto: Non Miriena**

**A/N: My darling baby brother decided to move the Nuremberg Trials back for _story_ purposes. The _real_ Nuremberg Trials took place between November 1945 and October 1946. Ten were hanged, one had died trying to escape Berlin in '45, and one committed suicide the night before he was to be hanged. - Licia**

_"In all, we saved some two thousand human beings. We ought to have saved many times that number. But we did what we could."_

_- Varian Fry (1907 - 1967)_

Be'er Sheva, Israel

_Over the next few weeks, they settled into their new home; Aziza had been ecstatic when they'd brought her to the house, and she'd spent hours exploring every part of the home Adrian had built for them, while her parents sat on the sofa, watching her dash back and forth, pigtails flying behind her. But eventually, she wore herself out, climbing up between them and curling into their arms, where she promptly fell asleep._

_So it was one afternoon, not long after they'd settled comfortably into their home, when Adrian opened his mouth and Zara nearly killed him._

_"They asked me to become a Nazi Hunter."_

_She turned to him, glancing quickly over his shoulder to check that Aziza was still in the living room, coloring. "Who asked you to become a what?"_

_He set down his mug and leaned against the kitchen table, crossing his arms. "A man stopped me as I was heading to work today, told me he was also a survivor. I'd rolled up my sleeves, saw the number on my arm. Asked me if I wanted a job catching Nazi criminals and bringing them to justice."_

_"And?"_

_"We went to that small cafe you and I often go to, and he told me about it, what they do, the leads they follow..." He sighed, going to her, even though he knew that he was taking his own life in his hands. Slowly, he slid his arms around her waist, pulling her into him. "Zara, the money is good. Better than what I would make working at the newspaper." In the time since they'd been here, Adrian had found work at the local newspaper, and while the pay was decent, it- combined with what Zara made as a seamstress- was barely anything to live on. If he could find a job with better pay..._

_"But?" She didn't like where her husband was going with this, but she waited, allowing him to explain._

_He shrugged. "It's a group of Holocaust survivors who search for and bring in Nazi criminals to stand trial for war crimes. If they are found guilty, then they hang for their crimes. It seems only right, considering what they did." She slid her arms around his neck, sighing._

_"You agreed, yes?" He nodded, as she rolled her eyes and pulled away. "Oh, Adrian-"_

_"Zara, listen to me, let me explain-" But she returned to fixing lunch, refusing to turn back to him._

_"What is there to explain? You have become a Nazi hunter. You are going to leave your family and put your own life in danger in search of criminals that would rather have seen us dead than alive, all in the name of money."_

_"Zara, you don't understand-"_

_"What do I not understand, Adrian?" She cried, turning to him, the cup she'd grabbed from the cupboard still in her hand. She threw it, striking him in the forehead, narrowly missing his temple as he ducked. "You are going to leave and search for those bastards that nearly destroyed us, that took our daughter from us! You are going to risk your life for someone who does not deserve it!" He reached for her, but she pushed his hands away. "No! Do not touch me! Just... just go. Go... hunt for your criminals... leave me alone."_

_Without a word, she fled, slamming the double doors behind her as she stepped out onto the porch. Aziza started to cry, and Adrian rushed to her, scooping the crying child into his arms. Though their arguments were never really violent- only the occasional thrown cup- they still scared the little girl, who'd learned to fear raised voices. She held onto her father, sobbing, and gently, Adrian rocked her back and forth, pressing kisses to her head and apologizing profusely for upsetting her. When he was finally able to calm her, he set her on the sofa and wrapped a blanket around her, pressing a kiss to her head and telling her to stay put while he talked to her mother. Then, he slipped outside, making his way to where Zara was on the porch steps._

_"I'm sorry." She didn't move. A sigh escaped his throat, and he took a seat beside her. "I should have talked to you before agreeing to the job, I realize that now."_

_"Then why not?" He sighed, knowing what she was asking and struggling to find the right answer. "I am your wife, Adrian, I have a right to know, a right to make that decision with you! I know I am only a woman, and therefore not valued in any way other than as a wife and mother, but you are my husband! You are my partner! We make decisions together! For the good of us and the good of our daughter!" She cried, gesturing back towards the living room on the other side of the closed doors._

_"Zara-"_

_"She deserves to have her father in her life! I deserve to have my husband! And now you will just go and leave us behind while you chase monsters around the world, without even bothering to inform me of what is going on! How do I explain that to our daughter? How do I tell her that Vati is going to be half a world away, hunting criminals, and that there is a chance, he may come back hurt or not come back at all? How do I tell our daughter that? She is only four-years-old, Adrian! She is a baby! She needs her Vati! I cannot raise her alone, I will not raise her alone!" She took a deep breath, struggling to keep from showing her husband how his decision hurt._

_"Zara, we need to survive. We need to eat and live and... this will help us do that. I am only trying to make a better life for us, for Iza." He slid an arm around her waist, pulling her close. "I value you so much, love. So much more than just my wife and the mother of our daughter. Zara, you are beautiful and strong and brilliant... and more than I could ever ask for... or even deserve." He brushed a wild strand from her forehead, caressing her skin and stroking the apple of her cheek with his thumb._

_She pressed her cheek into his hand, closing her eyes briefly and brushing a feather-light kiss to his palm. Slowly, her eyes opened, and he saw the tears dangling on her lashes. "Oh, Adrian... husband..." He pulled her close, kissing the tears away before had a chance to fall to her cheeks. He held her close, against his chest, pressing kisses to her hair as she clung to him, fingers curling around the material of his shirt. She drew a shaky breath, burying her face in his chest for a moment. "Come back to me... I do not think I could survive if I lost you..." She sniffled. "My heart could not take such terrible loss... when it has lost so many already..." _

_He held her close, brushing kisses to her hair. "I'll come back. I promise, and I never break my promises." _


	158. Chapter 158

**Rifiuto: Non Miriena**

_"I found out that the children of refugees and other groups of people who were enemies of Hitler weren't being looked after. I decided to try to get permits to Britain for them. I found out that the conditions which were laid down for bringing in a child were chiefly that you had a family that was willing and able to look after the child, and £50, which was quite a large sum of money in those days, that was to be deposited at the Home Office. The situation was heartbreaking. Many of the refugees hadn't the price of a meal. Some of the mothers tried desperately to get money to buy food for themselves and their children. The parents desperately wanted at least to get their children to safety when they couldn't manage to get visas for the whole family. I began to realize what suffering there is when armies start to march."_

_- Sir Nicholas Winton (1909 - ), British Stockbroker who Rescued 669 Jewish Children from Nazi-Occupied Czechoslovakia through the Organization of the Czech Kindertransport _

_Be'er Sheva, Israel_

_4:00 P.M._

"_Ima_? We're home." The trio stopped in the entrance way, surprised to find piles of papers spread out over the living room floor. "Um... what's going on?" She asked, as she quickly set the groceries she carried down in the kitchen. She watched as one of her older daughters rushed towards her, stepping carefully over the papers on the floor.

"_Ima_! They found _Savta_ and _Saba_!" Her mother furrowed a brow.

"Who?" She turned as the girl's sister joined her.

"The agents! They found them! They finally found them!" The girls had continued to talk, and she let them, unsure who to listen to and what to say. It was at that moment that she regretted having twins-

A sharp whistle soon cut through the chatter and everyone stopped, turning. Aziza was leading Tim and Ziva out of the hallway, explaining how Adrian had built every piece of furniture in the house; she'd been showing them the blueprints when the commotion from the living room had caught her attention. "What is going on here?"

"I could ask you the same thing, _Ima_." Aziza looked up as the other woman moved away from the girls and made her way towards her. "We come home from running errands, and find the house in... _chaos_."

"That would be our fault." Her head snapped to the side, and she studied the man standing beside her mother.

"Who are you?"

"This is Agent Tim McGee and Officer Ziva_ Da_vid from NCIS. This is my oldest daughter, Yael. The kids' mother." The two officers nodded, keeping quiet.

"Okay, two questions. First off, what the_ hell_ are they doing here? And second, _what_ is all over the living room?" She turned back, quickly drinking in the paper everywhere.

"I was getting to that." Aziza replied, moving past her daughter and into the living room. "Michael, Samuel, you both need to hear this too." A moment passed, before the two men finished putting the groceries away and joined the others. Yael crossed her arms over her chest, waiting. Once her family was settled, Aziza nodded, turning to Tim and Ziva. Everyone watched, confused.

"Agent McGee and Officer David were working on a case that involved the finding and selling of Holocaust artifacts. It was a double murder, where the victims had gone from selling artifacts on the black market to retrieving them and giving them to the American Holocaust Museum. The victims, were looking for my parents, for things they owned. When... when Agent McGee and Officer David received the case, they went undercover as the couple, got to Berlin, and began looking for them. I think," She glanced back at the pair, who stood quietly back. "at some point, that this case turned... very personal for them. On all levels." She turned back to her family. "And this... all this," She glanced at the papers. "this is what they found along the way. This is what they discovered. My parents."

She turned back to the couple. "You know more about them than I ever knew. Please." She returned to the armchair, allowing them to take over, but the couple shared a glance, unsure of what to say or do. Tim shrugged.

"I don't know what to tell you or how to even begin with this story." Ziva looked around, before spotting something on the floor. She grabbed it, turning to him.

"They can finish this now." She whispered, and he met her gaze. She nodded, before taking it over to Aziza. "We had a couple of the agents at the Berlin office helping us, and one of them drew up a tree to keep everyone in order." She held it out to the older woman. "Unfortunately, it stops at you, because at the time, we did not know if you had lived or died, but now..." She shrugged. "Now you can add your family to the tree." Aziza glanced at it, tears in her eyes as she traced her lineage.

"I... I never knew that... that Corrina was _Vati_'s... sister... I had heard him mention the name, and... I always liked it... so when Ina was born, I suggested it..."

"It's a family name?" Yael asked, going to her mother. She studied the half-finished family tree, her eyes lighting on Adrian's sister.

"As is Ziva." Aziza said, glancing at her granddaughter and then turning to her oldest. And so they started at the beginning, tracing through the family tree, explaining how Tim had met Gerda and telling them of her suicide. Aziza choked on a sob; though she didn't remember much of her time in Berlin, Gerda was prominent in her memories; the one who often calmed her and entertained her when her parents were at work, and the one who often managed to knock sense into _Vati_ when he said or did something stupid and _Ima_ got angry at him.

They explained the age difference between Henrik and Gerda, how their mother had married twice, losing her first husband in the cholera pandemic and then losing her second to the Great War. They told about how Gerda had lost her son in thirty-eight, and how Adrian had joined the White Rose when he attended Munich University, and how the majority of the group had faced trial and execution, while a select few- among them, Adrian- managed to escape.

Eventually, someone started dinner, and the house became livelier; the pair were bombarded with questions about what it was like to work for federal agencies and if it was a hard job physically or just emotionally. Around six in the evening, everything was moved outside to a long picnic table; seats were taken and plates handed around. Tim and Ziva stood on the porch, watching the family. "Shall we go?" Ziva asked, and he nodded, holding out a hand, which she took. Without a word- hoping they could get away unnoticed, since they'd intruded earlier- the pair turned and headed back into the house, determined to slip out the front and return to their car without being-

"Where are you going? Aren't you going to stay for dinner?" They turned back, to find the girl who'd first opened the door- Neda- standing on the steps, holding a couple of glasses of tea. The couple shared a glance. "Or do you... not want to stay?" Her face fell; Neda had gotten to the point where, by the early afternoon, she'd started to like both Agent McGee and Officer David- they were fascinating people from a world she had only read about in books and seen in documentaries and TV shows. And she found Agent McGee's eyes fascinating. Neda decided, right then and there, that one day, she would marry a man with the same bright, sparkling green eyes.

The pair shared a glance, unsure.

"Oh, _please_!" Neda put on her best pout, hoping that would change their minds. A moment passed, before Ziva spoke, reaching for one of the glasses,

"An hour could not do much harm, right, Timothy?"


	159. Chapter 159

**Rifiuto: Non Miriena**

**A/N: Again, Evan moved a few things back for story purposes. The_ real_ Irma Grese (known as The Beautiful Beast and The Hyena of Auschwitz), a female SS guard at ****Ravensbrück, Auschwitz and Bergen-Belsen, was captured by the British on 17 April, 1945, tried in the Belsen Trials, found guilty and executed by hanging on 13 December, 1945. **** - Licia**

_"It seemed to me that I was suddenly in the presence of inconsolable, unavoidable, and immense pain. The thought of that death hunted me and turned everything else into nothing."_

_- Hélène Berr (1921 - 1945)_

Be'er Sheva, Israel

2nd February, 1951

5:00 A.M.

_Something jolted her awake, and after making sure that her child was still sound asleep beside her, she sat up and climbed out of bed. Aziza had climbed into bed with her the for the last couple months, since Adrian had left on his hunt, and honestly, Zara didn't mind that Aziza would climb in bed with her most nights. She knew that the child wanted her Vati on nights when the nightmares of their journey were too much; Zara wanted him as well. She found it fascinating that, despite the fact that Adrian had also suffered at the hands of the Germans, he did not have nightmares as often as she did-_

_She pressed a kiss to Aziza's head, tucking the blankets around her before going to the bedroom door. As she slipped into the hall, she stopped, hearing footfalls on the front steps outside, and then what sounded like something scraping, jiggling-_

_Her heart rate began to rise, and she quickly glanced around the living room, reaching to grab something when the door finally opened and someone entered, closing it behind them. Their footsteps sounded on the hardwood floor, and once they got close enough, she reached for the nearest light, flicking it on. Her heart rate immediately relaxed. _

_"Adrian." He looked up, startled by the sudden light, and didn't have time to respond as she rushed to him, throwing her arms around his neck. He stumbled back slightly, but caught her around the waist, holding her close. She buried her face in his neck, breathing in his scent, before pulling away, her mouth meeting his. "You are home." He nodded, holding her close when they broke apart._

_"Where is Iza? I have one more of my girls to-"_

_"Vati!" They looked up as the little girl came rushing into the living room, arms out for him. He knelt down, scooping her into his arms._

_"There is my little love!" He pressed a firm kiss to her head as he settled her on his hip. "Have you been good for Ima?" Aziza nodded, as he pressed another firm kiss to her cheek. "That is my good girl." Zara watched her husband and daughter, before going into the kitchen and starting a pot of coffee. After a moment, Adrian followed, taking a seat at the table, settling Aziza on his lap. Once the coffee was made, Zara set a cup in front of her husband, and he grabbed her wrist. "Thank you." She smiled softly._

_"You are welc-" But he cut her off with a deep kiss that made the child giggle. They enjoyed the quiet and comfort as Aziza settled in her father's lap, curling into his embrace, head resting on his chest. Eventually, the beat of his heart and his comforting presence put the little girl to sleep. Once she was tucked back in her bed, Zara led Adrian to their room, pulling him to her once the door closed and locked behind them. "You have too many clothes on." She commented as she worked on remedying the situation. He let her take control, enjoying the feel of her hands running over his skin-_

_Soon, however, she found herself on her back among the blankets of their bed, ever fiber of her being becoming taught as a violin string with each touch, kiss and caress he left on her skin. A moment passed as she lifted her head briefly, watching as he continued to leave a trail of kisses down her belly and over the soft mound of curls between her legs. She let her head drop, releasing a sigh as he soon returned, searching her eyes before catching her mouth in his._

_She hissed as he began to enter her; the three months apart having left their desire growing, which made this reunion all the sweeter. They once more found their familiar rhythm, their bodies melding together until neither could tell where they started and the other ended. He moved deeper, further, into her, until neither could stand it. She dug her nails into his back, one hand moving down to caress and gently squeeze his buttocks before moving back to wrap around his neck. As they reached their climax, screaming each others' names, Zara wrapped her legs around his waist, holding him to her._

_Slowly, they began to come down from their high, the pleasant familiar hum working its way through their bodies. He shifted, being careful not to put all his weight onto her, and she reached up, brushing a finger over his cheek. "You are beautiful, husband." He kissed her once, softly, before shifting the lie on his back among the blankets._

_"I am... getting too old for this." She chuckled softly, looking at him._

_"You are only two years older than me, husband. You are not that old yet." She replied, reaching up and caressing his chin. He sighed, catching her wrist and pressing a kiss to her palm. They lay in silence for several minutes, before she shifted onto her side, propping herself on her elbow. "Did you catch whomever you were looking for?" He nodded, sighing and covering his eyes with his arm._

_"I did." He replied, hearing Zara shift. It wasn't that she was particularly interested in the people her husband and the other men hunted and tracked down, but she wanted to know that those who had committed such horrible crimes paid with their lives._

_"Who was it?" Adrian sighed, swallowing._

_"Irma Grese," He heard his wife shift, but didn't lift his arm. "Nicknamed The Beautiful Beast and-"_

_"The Hyena of Auschwitz." He lifted his arm, opening one eye to stare at her._

_"Yes. How... how did you know?" She swallowed, and he quickly sat up, to see his wife having wrapped her arms around herself. "Zara? Love, look at me. Talk to me." Slowly, she lifted her head, meeting his gaze, tears in her eyes. "Oh, Zara-"_

_He pulled her towards him, until she lay her head against his shoulder. "I know the Hyena of Auschwitz, Adrian..." She took a deep breath. _

_"How?" He didn't want to know the connection his wife had to the woman he'd brought back to the Allies to stand trial, and yet, he did. _

_"She... at.. roll call... after Ziva... she... she chose me for exp... exper... experimentation... Dr. M... Mengele..." _

_"Are you sure, Zara?" He asked, pulling away to meet her gaze. She took a deep breath. _

_"Long blonde hair... kind of..." She swallowed. "Not beautiful at all..." He chuckled softly, and nodded. _

_"God, Zara, I'm so sorry, sweetheart." He tightened his hold on her, allowing her to cry. He felt horrible for Zara having to relive this, but he knew that she'd have to at some point, and honestly, he was kind of glad it was now, and not when Aziza was awake and wanting to know why her mother was so upset. "I'm right here, love. I'm not going anywhere." _


	160. Chapter 160

**Rifiuto: Non Miriena**

**Thanks to Reader aka Sun Samuri for reviewing 150, 151, 152, 153, 154, 155, 156, 157 and 158.**

_"To build up a future, you have to know the past."_

_- Otto Frank (1889 - 1980)_

_Be'er Sheva, Israel_

_5:00 P.M. _

Dinner had been a lively affair, with everyone talking and bickering, stories were told and questions were asked, and the food was delicious. Tim and Ziva actually found themselves enjoying the evening, and when everyone returned inside, Aziza beckoned them join her on the sofa. They did; however, Tim stopped in the kitchen, running a hand gently over the table, studying the simple detailing on the legs and the backs of all the chairs.

"_Saba_ made it." He looked up, meeting the older man's eyes. He appeared to be in his thirties, with sandy colored hair, and bright blue eyes. "He learned carpentry over a period of a few months from a master carpenter. He made all the furniture as well as the house itself." Tim nodded, continuing to run his fingers over the wood. It was beautiful, every piece within the house lovingly carved and created by a man who had seen horror, who had lived through Hell and come out alive, and who only wanted to give his wife a home that would take them away from the terror they had survived. He chuckled. Yes, Gibbs would be proud of this handiwork. "I'm Michael. Aziza's son."

"Timothy McGee." The two men quickly shook hands, before joining the others in the living room. The files had been picked up and returned to their places, and everyone was talking at once, handing hot cups of coffee out and chattering excitedly. Eventually, though, everyone quieted down, and Aziza turned to the two guests. She gave them both soft smiles.

"Please, you know more about my parents than I do. Neither talked of their lives before or during the war. And I learned quickly not to ask." Tim and Ziva shared a glance. After a moment, Tim pulled out the files from the Holocaust museum, including the copies detailing their reunion after the war. He handed the files to Aziza.

"Your mother survived the Warsaw Uprising. She and her younger sister escaped through the tunnels; they lost their older brother and sister and their parents in the uprising. Levi and Miriam, their older siblings, participated in the uprising, their parents, Ira and Hannah, got caught up in it trying to escape."

"Warsaw... that was the ghetto they burned to the ground, right?" One of the older girls asked; Tim wasn't sure which one. He nodded.

"They destroyed it. And... somehow, through the sewers, Zara and Chava- her younger sister- ended up in Berlin. Of course, by then, Adrian had returned from University at Munich; he'd been part of the White Rose." Tim removed the leaflet and handed it to Aziza. She scanned it quickly, before turning it over, surprised to see the names written on the back-

"_Vati_." She gently brushed her fingers over his signature.

"What was the... White Rose?" Neda asked. She'd perched on the floor at the end of the sofa, legs crossed, head on her hands, watching Tim with fascination. Yes, the girl definitely had a crush. Tim turned to her, asking for the file back, which Aziza handed him. A moment passed, as he searched before finding what he wanted and removed it. Then, he got up, going to her. She looked at him, dark eyes wide to be so close to the American agent.

"This was the White Rose." He said, showing her the photograph- the one of the students sitting on the grass in the common of Munich University. "They were a group of German students at the University of Munich who were against Hitler and the Reich. They printed leaflets and distributed them around Munich."

"So... nonviolent?" Neda asked, meeting his gaze. He nodded.

"_Exactly_. And Adrian," He turned back to the photograph, pointing to the young man in the center of the group, staring straight at the camera. "He was a member." Neda brought the picture closer, studying the image.

"That is _Saba_?" A moment passed, before the picture was passed around and Tim returned to the sofa, flipping through the files.

"When the White Rose disbanded and Hans and Sophie Scholl and Christoph Probst were tried and executed for treason, only a handful of the members managed to escape Munich; some fled to England, a couple to France. Adrian returned to Berlin, where his family was- his parents and younger sister, Corrina." He pulled out the copy of the family portraits as well as the portrait of the Fromm siblings sitting on the stairs of their home in forty-one.

Aziza's eyes drank in the sight of her adoptive grandparents, her adoptive aunt... family she didn't even know had existed at one point, for Adrian never talked about them and there were no pictures to provide proof of their existence. Until now.

"The really frightening thing I've found," Tim started, pulling out his phone. "Is the resemblance." He pulled up a photograph and handed the phone to Aziza. "The image on the phone is my sister and I, taken a year and a half ago, and the photograph you're holding is of your father and your aunt."

"You look... identical." Aziza whispered, searching for- and finding- the exact same features in both images. "Twins... you could be..." Tim swallowed, taking reaching for his phone, but the others gathered around to study it, all expressing the same shock Aziza had. When they settled back again, Aziza handed him his phone, and he looked through the files again, removing the photographs of the Hirsch family. He handed the photocopy of the family portrait to the older woman, pointing to each in turn as he spoke their names.

"Ira and Hanna are in the center, with Levi and Miriam on either side. Zara and Chava are sitting on the floor; it was taken in the late thirties. Ira Hirsch was a doctor in Warsaw; so Zara came from a fairly well off family, at least until the war." He then handed her the other photograph- of the four children sitting on the front steps of the house. "Nineteen-thirty-eight, taken in Warsaw, Poland, before the ghetto was built."

"Z-a-h-r-a-h." Aziza looked up at him. It was Ziva who spoke this time.

"It is the Jewish spelling for her name. When she met Adrian, he removed both 'h's, shortening it, essentially, making it easier to say." Aziza nodded.

"How did my parents meet?" The couple shared a glance. That, in and of itself, was a story that would take several hours more and endless cups of coffee. They turned back to Aziza.

"Would you... be willing to make some more coffee?" Tim asked; she nodded. "It's going to be a long night."


	161. Chapter 161

**Rifiuto: Non Miriena**

_"Justice for crimes against humanity must have no limitations."_

_- Simon Wiesenthal (1908 - 2005)_

Be'er Sheva, Israel

6th May, 1951

11:30 A.M.

_Laughter reached her ears, and she stepped outside onto the porch, to find Adrian leaning against the railing, watching their daughter bound among the olive groves. "Aziza! Sei vorsichtig! Gehen Sie nicht zu weit! Bleiben Sie, wo ich Sie sehen kann!" The child glanced back at him. _

_"Ken, Vati!" And then she rushed off into the olive groves, her giggles rushing back to her father. _

_"Making sure she stays close?" He glanced at her, nodding._

_"I shouldn't worry about her so, but," He sighed, as his wife wrapped her arms around him from behind and rested her head on his shoulder. "After everything we've gone through... I just... my greatest fear is that something will happen and... that we'll lose her. That I'll lose both of you." He glanced at his wife. "We lost Ziva, who's to say we don't lose Azi too?" _

_She reached up, brushing her fingers against his cheek before she lifted her head, gently clucking her tongue. "We will not lose her, Adrian. We are safe, we have a home, a life..." He caught her hand, pulling her into his arms. "You are a wonderful man, husband, a wonderful father." He kissed her, savoring her taste-_

_"Vati!" Aziza's screams forced them apart, and without a second thought, they rushed down the steps into the olive groves, hearts in their throats. _

"_Aziza!" After several minutes, they finally found her, sitting in the dirt, crying. She was holding onto her ankle, and there was blood covering her foot and her knee. She'd stumbled over something in the grove, scraping her knee up badly and peeling the skin from the top of her foot. Adrian was the first to reach her, his paternal instincts kicking in as he knelt by her side. "Ich sagte vorsichtig sein! What happened? Aziza, what happened?" The child shook her head, sobbing harder._

_"Es tut mir leid, Vati!" Both Adrian and Zara had made certain that their daughter knew both Hebrew and German, as well as Polish, though she had taken faster to German than any of the other languages. "Ich wollte es nicht!" She continued to sob, crying when Zara removed light scarf and began to dab at the blood, so they could see the wounds clearly._

_"Shh, Ahava, hush, little love. We are here, bot Vati and I are here." She pressed soft kisses to the girl's head, before wrapping the scarf around the girl's foot and allowing Adrian to scoop her up. She clung to her father as he carried her back to the house, and then curled into his chest as they sat on the bathroom floor, allowing Zara to clean and bandage both wounds, crying softly as she clung to her father. Once done, Zara scooted closer, pressing kisses to her head and telling her what a brave girl she was. _

_When they returned to the living room, Adrian set Aziza on the sofa, but she refused to let go, and reluctantly, he sat down, allowing the child to climb into his lap. Zara watched from the kitchen as she quickly poured some iced tea and a glass of milk, joining her family once done. As she curled into her husband's other side, she handed the milk to Aziza, who took a few sips and then reached out to place it on the table; Adrian set it down for her, before allowing her to snuggle into his chest. "You have to be careful, Azi. The last thing Ima and I want is for you to get seriously hurt." _

_"Ken, Vati." He pressed a kiss to her head, glancing at his wife. She gave him a soft smile, before leaning over and kissing him sweetly on the lips. Aziza giggled at the display, and Adrian and Zara glanced down at her._

_"What is so funny, little love? Huh?" Zara asked, reaching down and brushing the curls out of the girl's eyes. But the child kept quiet, just shaking her head. As the girl rested her head against her father's chest again, Zara slid her arms around Adrian's shoulders, pressing a kiss to his temple before she got up. Once the girl was asleep, Adrian laid her against the pillow and draped a blanket over her, taking the glasses into the kitchen. "I still... cannot believe that she is ours."_

_He wrapped his arms around her from behind, pressing a kiss to her head. "I know."_

_"I just..." She turned in his arms. "I keep thinking that... that they will find us and... take her away." He reached up, cradling her head in his hand._

_"Shh, hush, wife." He rested a finger to her lips. "It won't happen. I won't allow it to." She met his gaze._

_"You cannot protect everyone, Adrian." Slowly, she reached up, caressing his face. "I know you want to try, and I love you so for it, but it is not possible. But for now, you can protect our daughter and you can protect me." She kissed him softly, and he sighed, nudging his nose to hers._

_"I... I have to leave again." She wrapped her arms around his neck, sighing._

_"Where are you going this time?" He shrugged._

_"I don't know. But I do know who I'm looking for now; Ernst von Weizsäcker. He was a diplomat in Germany at the time of the war, responsible for deporting thousands of French Jews to Auschwitz. And... because he was a prominent figure in Nazi Germany," He slid his hands down her back, gently squeezing her ass. "the money is better. Higher pay for higher-standing officers. It's a two month mission. I leave in a week." Zara nodded, pressing her lips together._

_"I understand." She pulled away, but he pulled her back, taking her chin in his hand._

_"Zara, I swear to you, I will be back in two months. No longer. And if I don't find von Weizsäcker, I don't find him. But I will be back. I will not miss Azi's birthday. I am not going to miss my daughter's fifth birthday, or the chance to see her mother try to keep her hands out of the cake." His wife giggled, blushing. "I am not going to spend any more time away with this mission than I have to. I missed nearly so much last time, and I won't this time."_

_"But this is important, Adrian."_

_"I know, that's why I'm going to find the bastard and bring him in as soon as I possibly can, so that I can come home to you as fast I can."_

_She nodded, pressing a kiss to his lips before pulling away and starting on lunch. Adrian watched her, leaning back against the island table he'd created for the center of the kitchen so they'd have extra work space. "They changed the name."_

_"What name?" She asked, working on the chopping the lettuce for the salad she was making, jumping when she sliced into her finger. "Ow!" He made his way to her, as she sucked on it, hissing in pain as he took her hand and studied it. He turned on the sink and held her hand under the cool water; once done, he wiped the still flowing blood away and pressed a kiss to the cut. "Adrian, no! I am bleed-"_

_"Your blood doesn't bother me, wife." He replied, letting go of her hand and sliding his arms around her waist. "I created a child with you, remember?" She sighed, laying her head on his shoulder briefly._

_"What did they change it to?" He pulled away to look at her after several minutes, brow furrowed._

_"What?"_

_"You said that they changed the name of... whatever organization Nazi hunters are. So, what do they call it now?" He bit his lip, thinking, trying to remember the name they had used when he'd gotten the phone call about the secret meeting a couple weeks back._

_"Well, the motto is... be-tachb..." She pulled away._

_"Be-tachbūlōt ta`aseh lekhā milchāmāh?" He nodded._

_"Yes, how did you know?" She returned to working on lunch, being careful with the knife._

_"It is from the Bible. Proverb twenty-four/six: 'For by wise guidance you can wage your war.'" Adrian nodded, grabbing a bowl from the cupboard and setting it down as she placed the lettuce in it. She leaned up, kissing him quickly. "Toda, my husband."_

_All he did was nod, still curious as to how she knew the motto. "What is the motto? Can you say it again?" She glanced at him, as she returned from the fridge with the tomatoes they'd bought at the market a day earlier._

_"For by wise guidance-"_

_"No, not that. the Hebrew." She chuckled softly._

_"Be-tachbūlōt ta`aseh lekhā milchāmāh. You really need to learn how to speak Hebrew, husband. Our daughter is even surpassing you in her languages." She grinned, and he rolled his eyes, unable to hide the smile on his face._

_"I grew up speaking German and learning English."_

_"And I grew up speaking Polish and Hebrew, and learning German and English." She reached up, thumbing his bottom lip. "You to broaden your vocabulary, my love."_

_"My vocabulary is just fine, thank you very much." She grinned, returning to work on their lunch. "HaMossad leModiʿin uleTafkidim Meyuḥadim." She turned to him, surprised by impressed with his shaky pronunciation._

_"Very good. And that is?" She asked, finishing the salad and setting the bowl in the middle of the table as he grabbed plates and utensils and began setting the table._

_"Well, if I remember correctly, they call it the Institute for Intelligence and Special Operations."_

_"Quite a long name for an agency, is it not?" She asked, setting down a plate with sandwiches she'd made earlier in the afternoon before going to the sofa and gently waking Aziza. She came back with the little girl sleepily leaning on her shoulder, rubbing her eyes and yawning. As she set the child in a chair and brushed a kiss to her head, he held her chair out of her. "Toda." She stole a kiss before allowing him to sit and they began eating._

_"Mossad."_

_She looked up, fork mid-air. "What?" Adrian took a sip of his tea and set the glass down, checking to make sure Aziza used her napkin and not her dress when she got her hands messy. He then met his wife's gaze. _

_"They call it Mossad." _


	162. Chapter 162

**Rifiuto: Non Miriena**

_"Every child saved with my help and the help of all the wonderful secret messengers, who today are no longer living,_

_is the justification of my existence on this earth, and not a title to glory. "_

_- Irena Sendler (1910 - 2008)_

_Be'er Sheva, Israel_

_8:00 P.M._

"So..._ Saba_ found_ Savta_ and her little sister hiding in an alley in Berlin?" Anneliese asked, handing her grandmother another cup of coffee and taking a seat on the floor with her sisters. Tim nodded.

"Yeah. He brought them home and hid them in the wall of his room for about two weeks or so before their parents found out. After their parents found out, they decided to keep hiding them; anything they could to stand up to Hitler."

"But... they would have been killed. Why didn't they just... send the girls on their way?" Everyone turned to Levi, who shrugged. "What? It's a valid question."

"If _Vati_ had sent _Ima_ and her sister 'on their way', as you so nicely put it Levi Simon, _you_ would not be here. None of you would." Ziva chuckled softly, glancing at Aziza out of the corner of her eye. Despite her age and advancing years, the woman was feisty and unafraid to speak her mind. She could only imagine the Hell Adrian and Zara went through raising her. Especially given that, from what they'd learned of her, Zara was pretty feisty herself. To find that same trait in her daughter- even adopted- must have driven Zara up the hall. And Adrian, with his calm, relaxed temperament, probably had a difficult time trying to keep the two from killing each other, especially once Aziza hit her teenage years.

"They hid the girls for... well, from what we can figure, only a few months, until late forty-four, when the Gestapo was alerted and Anneliese and Henrik were taken away to the camps."

"Who turned them in?" Zee asked, sipping her hot chocolate. Ziva shrugged.

"We do not know. We have not been able to figure it out. But your grandparents and great-aunts escaped. As did Conrad Bletcher, Adrian's best friend." Aziza looked up.

"Did you say Conrad?" She nodded.

"You remember him?" Tim asked, as Aziza wrapped her hands around her mug.

"Vague, very, very vague memories... please. Go on." After a moment, Ziva held out the photograph they'd shown Aziza when they first arrived; the one of Adrian and Zara in front of the fire, wrapped in the blanket together. She handed it to Anneliese, and the kids gathered around the look at it.

"That's them?" Ziva nodded.

"_Savta_ was so pretty!"

"And_ Saba_, he looks so young!"

"They were only in their late teens, early twenties. Two years separated them in age." Ziva said.

"They look like they are about to kiss." Neda giggled, glancing at her mother. "Ima, did you see? Savta looks so pretty! Just like you!" Yael nodded, settling into her husband's side. "They fell in love, didn't they?" She asked, looking up at the couple.

"They did. But because he was a German and she was a Jew, their relationship would not have been allowed." She pulled something out of Tim's bag, holding it out to Aziza. "They were on the run for... months, and they fled into the countryside. All except Corrina."

"What happened to Corrina?" Zee asked, leaning back against her boyfriend.

"A death certificate?" Aziza turned to the officer, who nodded.

"And a newspaper article, detailing her death. They were... caught by a Nazi officer as they left Berlin. Adrian stood up to him, and the man was going to kill him, for hiding Jews." She glanced at Aziza, seeing the tears on her cheeks.

"March first, nineteen-forty-four. She was... seventeen."

"We think, and we are not sure if this is true, but we think the officer was going to kill Adrian and... Corrina got in front of him. Sacrificed herself for her brother. One shot to the stomach, with a Luger P-Zero-Eight. It would have killed her instantly." She handed Aziza the photos they'd taken of the stones in the cemetery. "We found their graves- Henrik and Anneliese and Corrina's. They are buried in _Weißensee_ Cemetery, a Jewish cemetery in Berlin. She and Anneliese are righteous women among the Jews, by obligation. The community cares for them as though they are their own, born of Judaism. They are Honorary Jews because of their actions during the war."

"That's wonderful." Anneliese whispered, brushing away the tears that threatened to fall. "But that still doesn't explain what happened to _Saba_ and _Savta_ after they left Berlin. You... you said that they... they fled... into the country?" Tim nodded.

"We know that they spent time in a small village, and that it was destroyed in a Nazi roundup. It was also where Conrad and Chava were taken."

"What about-" Levi started, but Tim cut him off, pulling something out the duffel bag he'd grabbed from the car. They watched in shock as he set it on the floor and unzipped it, removing something. It was twisted, the paint faded and chipped. It looked as though it'd been run over multiple times by a car or plane. "What is that?"

"This, is Adrian's bike. Chava and Conrad used it as a distraction during the roundup so he and Zara could get away. It was buried in the ash and remains of the village." As he set the bike down, Ziva held out the ring and locket; a moment passed as Aziza took them. "Your parents stayed in this cabin in the countryside for... months. All through the German winter of forty-four and into the spring of forty-five. From what we were able to figure out, that cabin is where their relationship turned sexual."

"What do you mean?" Neda asked, turning the ring over and over in her hands.

"That cabin is where they conceived their daughter." The girl's head snapped up.

"_Savta_?" Aziza shook her head.

"No. They adopted me in the late forties, love."

"Your sister, their natural born child." Tim said, voice soft as he met Aziza's eyes. "Their daughter, Ziva." The older woman nodded.

"_Ima_ never talked about her, even when I asked. She would start to cry and then shut down. And _Vati_... he never said a word about her. The only reason I knew I even had a sister was because I overheard them talking one night. _Vati_, he... he mentioned... a baby named Ziva and how it wasn't_ Ima_'s fault that she died. That was the only way I ever knew I had an older sister. But I never knew what happened to her. And I never asked."

"She was stillborn." Ziva whispered, wrapping her arms around herself and struggling to keep the tears at bay. "Born in Auschwitz, on June eighth, forty-five. And the only reason we know the date, is because the diary entry is dated for the day after." She sniffled, struggling to keep her emotions under control. Now that she was a mother-

"Do you have kids, Officer David?" Zee asked, watching her. She nodded. "Just one?"

"Two. Twins. Boy and a girl." She glanced at Tim, and the young woman caught the look.

"You two?" They nodded, silent, waiting for the girl to continue her questions, but she let the matter drop.

"We're thinking, that the ring and the locket were... used in some sort of... wedding ceremony. A... self-uniting marriage between the two, before they were caught and taken to the camps. We do not know how Chava died, but it is highly likely that she died in one of the camps, before liberation. We were able to figure out that Zara was selected by Dr. Mengele and Dr. Clauberg, for experimentation."

"How do you-" Levi started, but Aziza's soft voice stopped him.

"Because she could not have children. That is why they adopted me, were I to guess." She looked at each of her grandchildren. "They sterilized her, simply because she was a Jew. I have always known I was adopted, but I never knew the reason until I was about seven or so. They never explained why, they just said that... _Ima_ could not carry another baby, that it was not possible for me to have a sibling. I did not really know or understand that I had one that I had never met." She turned back to the couple. "Please, continue."


	163. Chapter 163

**Rifiuto: Non Miriena**

**Thanks to Reader aka Sun Samuri for reviewing 159, 160, 161 and 162.**

_"The moment we stop fighting for the underdog is the moment we lose humanity."_

_- Wayne Kelly (1948 - 2012)_

Tel Aviv, Israel

18 June, 1951

_"You're doing good, Mr. Fromm."_

_Adrian turned, as Simon Wiesenthal, a fellow Nazi hunter, joined him. He was older than Adrian, with graying dark hair and inquisitive dark eyes. He gave the older man a small smile._

_"I'm just glad I'm able to keep up." Simon chuckled. The two men had just left the director's office, paychecks in hand. As they headed down the stairs, Simon spoke. _

_"I am surprised." _

_"About what?" Adrian asked, slipping the envelope with his payment into his coat pocket. _

_"How does a German end up working first as a Nazi hunter and then as a Mossad agent? In fact, how does a German end up in Israel in the first place?"_

_The younger man chuckled, thinking. "You know, it is... kind of a funny story." Simon raised an eyebrow._

_"Care to tell me over coffee? I can drop you off at home before I head home. You are in Be'er Sheva, correct?"_

_The two men found themselves chatting over a steaming cups of coffee at a local cafe in the heart of Tel Aviv- a cafe that would, decades later, be bombed by Hamas, wounding hundreds and killing over fifty, the youngest daughter of the Deputy Director of Mossad among the dead. But for now, the cafe was a beautiful reminder of the thriving city, and its embrace of its roots- those that survived such horror and came out to plan futures._

_"So your wife is Jewish?"_

_"She's a Polish Jew. Grew up in Warsaw, survived the Uprising." His companion nodded._

_"Let me guess, you hid her during the war?" Adrian nodded, sighing, before rolling up his sleeve, revealing the numbers on his arm. "You survived the camps."_

_"We both did. Berga der la Elster, she survived Auschwitz. Our daughter was born in the camp, but... she didn't even survive to take her first breath." He sighed, sipping his coffee. "After the war, we moved back to Berlin, lived with my aunt for a while, adopted a little girl whose mother had been killed near the wall. Her father was a German; she was the product of rape... her mother was a Holocaust survivor that knew my wife in the camps, so it only seems right that we raise her daughter, but the adoption was..." He trailed off._

_"Illegal."_

_"Yes. They put a price on our heads, and so we... we ran. Came down here to start a new life."_

_"And what does your wife do while you chase the evil of the Shoah?" Simon asked, sipping his coffee. Adrian chuckled softly._

_"She's a seamstress. But she grew up wanting to become a midwife. Right now, though, she's a mother, which, I think she has wanted... more than anything.'_

_"And your daughter?" Adrian chuckled._

_"She is a... spit fire. Exactly like her mother. I can only imagine what she's going to be like when she gets to be a teenager." He shuddered._

_As they left the cafe and headed out of Tel Aviv, the hour-long drive to Be'er Sheva gave them time to discuss their shared experiences at the hands of the Nazis. It also gave them time to discuss the future of this new agency that they were now working for. Adrian shifted, wincing. "How's that shoulder doing?"_

_"A little stiff, but it's not too bad."_

_"Honestly, I wasn't expecting you to get back up after that shot."_

_"I suffered worse at the hands of the Nazis. A bullet doesn't bother me." He rolled his shoulder, hissing softly before he was finally able to relax against the seat. "What worries me is how my wife is going to react."_

_Finally, they pulled up in front of the little house on the outskirts of Be'er Sheva. The front door opened as soon as the car pulled up, and a small, dark-haired, barefoot little girl in a light green dress came bounding down the front steps, as her mother stepped onto the small stoop. "Vati!" Adrian stepped out of the car, kneeling down and scooping his daughter into his arms. He winced as she leaned against his injured arm, but covered it with a smile. "Was ist los, Vati?"_

_"Nothing's wrong, little love, I just missed you." He chuckled, kissing her softly on the lips before shifting her to his other side._

_"You are home early." He grinned as Zara made her way towards him._

_"I told you I would, didn't I?" He asked, pulling her into his embrace with his injured arm. The kiss was soft, gentle, and she wrapped her arms around his neck when they broke apart. After he bid Simon goodbye, Adrian let his girls tug him into the house. As he set Aziza down, he winced; this time, Zara noticed._

_"Are you all right?" He straightened and turned to her, giving her a quick smile._

_"Of course I'm all right. I'm home with both my girls, earlier than expected, and both of them have grown even lovelier since I left." He replied, making his way over and taking her in his arms. He kissed her sweetly, smiling into the kiss- "Ow!" He hissed, rearing back as she reached up and pinched his arm, just below his shoulder. She narrowed her eyes. "What was that for?"_

_"You are lying to me, Adrian Fromm." Zara replied, hands on her small hips. He reached up, rubbing his arm, trying hard not to wince._

_"Zara, I'm not-" He jumped, stumbling away from her as she did it again. "Would you stop that?"_

_"Show me your arm."_

_"Zara-"_

_"Show me your arm, Adrian!" He sighed, and after a moment- if only to avoid her pinching him again- he unbuttoned his shirt and shrugged it down his shoulders. "Oh Adrian!" His arm was fine, but it was his shoulder that worried her. The skin of his shoulder was a nasty purple and black, and it had been wrapped tightly; the dressing was secure, and after a moment, Zara went to him, slowly undoing the dressing to look. She pulled back. "What happened?" He stayed silent. "Adrian." _

_"It's nothing, wife." She glared at him. "Zara, I swear-"_

_"What happened?" Her voice was low, dangerous. When Aziza rushed towards them, she knelt down, giving their daughter a big smile. "Can you stay in the living room for a little while, Iza? Hmm?" _

_"Why?" The child watched her mother, before glancing towards Adrian as he pulled his shirt back on and quickly buttoned it. Zara sighed, glancing at her husband. _

_"Because..." She wrinkled her nose, turning back to her husband. "Because Vati just got back from a mission, and he hasn't had time to get clean, so he needs to take a bath." _

_"A bath, Zara? Really? What am I, six?" She glared at him, and he held up his hands. _

_"He was playing in the dirt?" Aziza asked, eyes wide. Occasionally, Vati and Ima would let her play in the dirt, if she wasn't wearing something nice, but she didn't know that adults played in the dirt too. Zara thought a moment, before nodding. _

_Once Aziza was settled in the living room with her dolls, Zara dragged Adrian to the bathroom. Locking the door behind her, she then started the water. "Strip. Now." He sighed, but knew better than to argue, and did as told, hissing in pain as he shrugged off his shirt once more. As the water filled the tub, Zara went to him, brushing her fingers over the dressed wound; even her gentle touch caused him to wince, and she sighed. "What did you do, husband?"_

_"I didn't do anything, Zara." He replied, continuing to strip the rest of the way. "I got shot." Her hand froze on the faucet knob, and she turned to him._

_"Shot? You did not say anything about getting shot, my husband." He sighed. "When did you get shot?" _

_"It was... when we were going after von Weizsäcker. He had a... companion with him, who as good with a gun, but not quite. I got shot before I was finally able to take him down and get the bastard I'd been looking for." He swallowed, reaching out to grip her waist, but she pulled away, crossing her arms over her chest. "Good thing is, that son of a bitch is going to stand trial for his crimes, and we are going to be a little more stable financially."_

_She nodded, going to the side of the tub and shutting the water off. "Strip, the rest of the way." Once he was in the bath, the warm water relaxing his muscles and bones, Zara perched on the edge with fresh bandages, some ointment and a cloth. She gently removed the dressing, apologizing when he winced. Once the dressing was gone, she doused the cloth in hydrogen peroxide, and began cleaning it, brushing the cloth gently over the wound. The bullet had passed through his shoulder, and whomever had treated Adrian had done right by dressing and cleaning the wound. As she finished cleaning and dressing the wound, she quickly removed her clothes and slipped into the water, settling back against him._

_He slid his arms around her waist, pulling her to him, his mouth finding her neck. She sighed, slipping down so that she could rest her head against his chest, instead of his injured shoulder. "Why did you try to hide this?" She asked, reaching up to brush her fingers against the dressing. He met her gaze, thinking._

_"Because I didn't want to worry you, wife." She sat up, turning to him._

_"Adrian, you scared me." She reached up, taking his face in her hands. "You come home after a month-long mission, injured. And you try to lie about it. How am I supposed to take it? Am I not supposed to be worried? Am I not supposed to be scared?"_

_He sighed, reaching up and covering her hands in his, pressing kisses to her palms, before resting his forehead to hers. "I'm so sorry, Zara." She 'hmm'-ed softly, pressing a soft kiss to his lips-_

_A knock on the door pulled them slowly apart. "Vati? Ima?" They shared a glance, waiting, before Zara asked,_

_"Ken, little love?"_

_Silence met them on the other side of the door for a moment, before,_

_"I have to go potty." _


	164. Chapter 164

**Rifiuto: Non Miriena**

**Thanks to ladyd10 for reviewing 154 and Reader aka Sun Samuri for reviewing 163.**

_"Never adopt a name remotely connected with your previous life."_

_- Andre Dewavrin, (1911 - 1998) SOE spy _

_Be'er Sheva, Israel_

_9:00 P.M._

"So... you and... Officer David really have... twins?"

Tim looked up as he poured another cup of coffee, his conversation with Michael cut short. Neda stood before him, twisting the bottom of her shirt nervously in her hands. The girl was... sixteen at most, but what Tim couldn't get over was how much she_ looked_ like _Ziva._.. and considering how_ identical_ Ziva and Zara were- even decades apart- well, it didn't surprise him. He nodded. "I do. Boy and girl; they're... I'd say about... nine, maybe ten months now."

"Oh. But you're... not married." He shook his head.

"No, we're not." She nodded slowly, biting her lip.

"Do you... have a... brother, maybe?" She leaned against the island, folding her hands on the counter top. Tim chuckled, setting his cup down.

"Just a younger sister." The teenager lowered her gaze for a moment, before glancing over her shoulder to the living room, where Ziva was talking with Aziza, telling her of how she herself had grown up in Be'er Sheva, and, much like the older woman, spent her days running through the olive groves with her siblings. The officer was pretty, very pretty- but the kind of pretty where she didn't _realize_ she was pretty, she just _was_. After a moment, Neda turned back to him.

"Officer David is lucky. I hope I'm lucky like that one day." Tim gave her a small smile.

"You will be." Then, without a word, he returned to the sofa, taking a seat between the two women and setting his cup on the table before grabbing his bag. Neda followed, sitting at his feet to listen as they continued.

"So... where was Ziva born?" Neda asked, as Tim pulled out the diary, handing it to Aziza. "What is that?"

"That," Ziva replied, glancing at the book she'd read cover to cover. "Is your great-grandmother's diary. She kept it while she was at Auschwitz, making it out of scraps of paper and blanket, and hiding it in her pillow. She started keeping it not long after they arrived and were separated."

"Separated?" Levi asked, perching on the arm of the armchair his uncle was sitting in. Tim nodded.

"When they arrived at Auschwitz, they were separated- men to the left and women to the right. If they were not immediately sent off to the gas chambers, they were taken to the registration office, where they were stripped of their belongings, clothing, glasses, jewelry, shoes... they were given papers and had IDs tattooed to their arms in order to identify them. It was a means of stripping them of their identities and turning them into cattle, essentially. They were then disinfected and their hair was cut, crowns were removed and then they were given uniforms and sent to barracks."

He glanced at Aziza. "Zara... Zara was six months along when she arrived at Auschwitz; three months later, she was sent to the hospital ward, and Dr. Perl broke her water, sending her into labor. From what she wrote in the diary, Dr. Perl, the gynecologist, made the choice for her- it was either her or the baby, and Zara had a better chance of surviving in the camp than the baby did. She went through..."

He sighed, trying to remember, but Ziva picked up. "Six hours of labor, the most painful moments of her life. It is highly likely that something happened either during or before the birth that resulted in the baby being stillborn. And, according to Zara's own words," She glanced at Aziza, who was flipping slowly through the small, handmade book. "Dr. Perl sent her back to her barracks after the birth. She began working the crematoriums not long after, and worked those until liberation."

Tears came to Aziza's eyes as she read the entries, her mother's words, her voice, jumping from the pages to whisper in her ear the evils she had witnessed and lived through. These were her mother's _words_- this was Zara's_ voice_- coming back through the annals of the darkest period in history to tell her of the horrors she'd bore witness to; horrors she, in life, couldn't breathe a word of.

_"I had to send a child to the fires today- a child. A little girl of seven... because she had somehow escaped the gas chamber and made her way to us, begging us to help her escape... but one of the other prisoners told me to place her on the tray and be done with her... she begged and pleaded and began to cry, and I... for a brief moment, I considered telling her to run and letting her go. I considered letting her go and climbing into the fires myself, for my daughter is dead, and I know my beloved Adrian is as well. For that moment, I considered suicide, but then one of the other workers- one of the women patrolling, making sure we did not stop- slapped me hard on the back with her cane, and I hastily scooped the little girl up and set her on the tray. I... I kissed her forehead, and told her to be brave... and... and before I could say another word, her head exploded, as a bullet shattered her skull. One of the guards making his rounds had shot her, realizing she had escaped the chambers. And so I pushed her body into the oven, her blood and brain on my own skin, if only to appease the guard watching... if I survive this... Hell... I shall smell the stench of burning meat for the rest of my life..." _

She wiped at her eyes, looking up at the two agents. "Please, go on." The couple shared a glance, before Ziva held out the photographs detailing their reunion. Once she'd taken them, Aziza slowly flipped through each one, tears coming to her eyes once more as she saw how thin her parents had both gotten. "Adrian was at Berga an der Elster, a POW camp. They were made to dig tunnels for hours... his bunk mate was- and this surprised even me- Jackson Gibbs, my boss's father. They kept each other from losing hope. After liberation, they searched the boards of listed survivors for Zara's name, but didn't find her; Adrian didn't know that she'd changed her name."

"Changed her name?" Anneliese asked, as she accepted the photographs and her siblings gathered close to look. Tim nodded. "To what?" It was Ziva who spoke up next.

"Fromm."


	165. Chapter 165

**Rifiuto: Non Miriena**

**A/N: Ev has this chapter jump ahead a year or so. - Licia**

_" I do not dwell on these moments. What we must remember are the Jewish souls that did not survive and this is what I am trying to do- capture them to bring back their spirit. They have much to tell us and show us of their lives."_

_- Irene Lieblich (1923 - 2008), Artist and Holocaust Survivor_

Be'er Sheva, Israel

13 June, 1953

8:00 P.M.

_She sat up, jolted awake by what sounded like thunder in the distance; in reality, it was gunfire, off in the deserts of their adoptive homeland. She looked around, and, upon hearing the gunfire once more, pushed the covers back and climbed out of bed, rushing from her room to her parents' across the hall. The six-year-old girl reached for the door, but stopped, upon hearing the voices on the other side._

_"... to stop blaming yourself. It's not your fault."_

_"Then why do I feel so guilty, Adrian?"_

_"Because... it was a difficult situation, and you weren't given the appropriate time to grieve for her."_

_"I thought you were dead! I did not need to grieve, if anything, I longed to join you!" She leaned against the door frame, eavesdropping on her jumped, hearing the gunfire, but it didn't seem to affect her parents on the other side of the door. _

_"I know, all right? I know, because I felt the same way at Berga, but you have to get past this, Zara. We have to get past this. We have a daughter now, a beautiful little girl who loves us both dearly. We need to focus on Azi and not on Ziva."_

_"Adrian-" _

_"Azi is our future and Ziva is our past, Zara. We have to accept that." _

_"I killed our daughter-" _

_"You did no such thing, Zara, do you hear me? She was not meant to live, you were. There is a difference. God made a choice-"_

_"What God? There is no God." _

_"Oh, Zara-" _

_"Well there isn't!" She jumped at her mother's raised voice, and after a moment, reached for the doorknob, pulling the unlatched door open. Cautiously, she poked her head in, holding tight to her doll._

_"V... Vati?" Both adults turned to her; they were in a stand off, on either side of the bedroom, glaring at each other like children who couldn't agree on what game to play. But as soon as Adrian's gaze landed on her, he relaxed, going to her and kneeling down to her level._

_"What are you doing up, little love? You're supposed to be in bed-"_

_"It scared me." She jumped at the gunfire, burrowing into her father's arms. In the year and a half that had passed since her birthday, Adrian had been gone on only two major missions- hunting and bringing back Erich Priebke, who, halfway through France, managed to escape thanks to the Klarsfelds- supposed Nazi hunters from France, who had no business going after a Mossad hit and were looking to take Priebke in themselves- and, the one that was taking up the majority of time in Mossad; the hunt for Adolf Eichmann, the bastard who'd created and carried out the 'Final Solution' for the Jews._

_For now, though, Adrian was home, taking care of his girls and spending every waking moment catching up on what he missed when he was away. His Hebrew was improving, and he'd quickly risen up the ranks of Mossad; it surprised everyone in the agency that the one with the assassin's eye was the German. Even Simon had been impressed, and he'd suggested Adrian for Caesarea, the group of highly-skilled assassins that worked the inner circle of the Israeli agency, committing assassinations when the need called for it. The young father, however, had said he'd think of it, preferring to stick to being an agent, of which Simon had told him that some of the other hunters weren't just agents, they were assassins. Still, Adrian had his family to think of, his wife and child to consider._

_"I know, it can be scary, little love. Did you want to be with us?" She nodded, and he scooped her up, wincing slightly for the pain in his shoulder. Though he'd fully healed, it was phantom pains that often caught him off guard, but he took them in stride, even the scarring left from the bullet. Once he'd settled her on his hip, he turned to Zara, who shook her head and moved past, going to the door. Adrian grabbed her wrist. "Zara." She turned back, and after a moment, he pulled her close. "You are not responsible, okay? You are not responsible for our daughter's death. Ziva did not die because of you, she died because she wasn't meant to live. You need to stop blaming yourself, wife."_

_Then, before she could say anything else, he tugged her towards the bed, allowing Aziza to clamber onto the bed and beneath the covers before they joined her, curling around the child and holding her close. Adrian watched his wife from over the top of his daughter's head. He reached across their child, taking her hand, sliding their fingers together as he played with her hand, brushing his thumb over her ring finger. He sighed, and met her gaze as she squeezed his hand. "We will be okay, Adrian." Then, she pushed herself up and leaned over Aziza. "I love you." He whispered it back before accepting her kiss. As she settled back down, she pressed a kiss to Aziza's head, curling around the little girl._

_She awoke hours later to the sounds of distant gunfire, and after checking that her family was still asleep- the sight of Aziza, tucked into Adrian's arms, her head curled beneath his chin, her small hands grasping tightly at his shirt, made her heart skip a beat, after all, how the Hell had she gotten so lucky?- Zara slowly entangled herself from Adrian's embrace, for the trio had snuggled up together, both of them wrapped tight around Aziza, humming and whispering softly to calm her soft cries; she slipped out of bed, the cold wood floor beneath her feet making her shiver. As she headed to the door, she stopped, going back and pressing soft kisses to their heads before slipping out of the room and heading towards the kitchen._

_She made a pot of tea, careful to snatch the kettle from the burn before it started to whistle to keep from waking her loves, and then slipped out onto the back porch. She took a seat at the small patio table Adrian had made, running her fingers over the smooth wood. She leaned her head back, taking in the stars overhead, sighing, Adrian's words returning to her. He'd told her that it wasn't her fault, that Ziva wouldn't have survived even if she hadn't been stillborn. But still, she couldn't help feeling responsible-_

_It had been her job to make sure the baby was healthy, that she came into the world alive and..._

_Her head snapped up; the last thing she needed was to start crying. So instead, she turned her gaze to the olive groves that Adrian had made sure Zara could see no matter where she stood on the porch. Her mother would have loved to see such amazing, beautiful plants; Hanna had always believed that the olive was essential to the longevity of life. She had often bathed the kids and then rubbed the oil into their skin, telling them that its properties would help them to gather the courage to live, to survive even in the worst of situations. Superstitious nonsense, Zara now knew, but back then she'd believed every word her mother had said. _

_"This will help you to calm, my Zahrah, and to focus on yourself and not every one else for once." _

_She sniffled at her mother's words; Hanna had understood her middle daughter, for she had been the same growing up. For Zara, like her mother before her, though she'd been young, had been wise beyond her years, and Hanna saw that, and tried hard to give the girl back some of her youthful soul. She glanced at the baskets they kept in the corner, for gathering olives in the afternoons. Taking a deep breath, she stood, grabbing a basket and then heading down the steps, towards the olive groves, the dirt cold on her bare feet._

_She held the basket on her hip, soon becoming lost in the trees, as Adrian made his way to the double doors. He leaned against the door frame, watching as his wife made her way through the olive groves, her arm reaching up occasionally to pluck the small fruit from the branches._


	166. Chapter 166

**Rifiuto: Non Miriena**

**Thanks to Reader aka Sun Samuri for reviewing 164 and 165.**

_"I had great luck that in the block, in which I stayed overnight."_

_- Esther _Béjarano_ (1923 - ), One of the Last Survivors of the Women's Orchestra of Auschwitz _

_Be'er Sheva, Israel_

_10:30 P.M._

"So... she changed her name to Fromm? I don't understand." Zee asked, sipping her coffee. Tim sighed, setting his cup down.

"Her family had died in the camps; and they'd... it was a self-uniting marriage that the two had in the cabin before the Gestapo dragged them out. I'm sure part of the reason she changed her name was because she had no family left, and if Adrian had somehow survived, then it'd be easier for him to find her. It was her choice." He nodded towards the photographs again. "Those that liberated Auschwitz stopped near Berga to allow the survivors to get out and stretch their legs, and that's where Adrian and Zara were reunited. That's where the photographs were taken. "_A Reunion of Two Sides: German and Jewish Concentration Camp Survivors Reunite upon Camps' Liberations_'- at least, that's what the title is at the Holocaust Museum in D.C."

Aziza nodded, before glancing at what Tim held in his lap. "What is that?" He glanced at it, before slowly removing the compass with its cracked face. "This was Adrian's. I don't know how the glass ended up cracked, but it was found in Gerda's house along with these things." He said, handing the older woman the photographs and prayer book. "The photographs, from what Ziva and I have been able to figure out, are some of Zara's relatives, from the turn of the century. And the prayer book was given to Zara by her parents when she was born."

Aziza held the small book gently in her grasp, her fingers resting lightly against the page with the signature. Tears came to her eyes at the handwriting, at the date that told her that her mother existed-

_ 1925. _

She knew her mother had existed, she'd been raised by her, but she only knew one aspect of her- the aspect Zara had been willing to show her. She knew nothing of her mother's life before she had come into it, or her teenage years, her childhood, her birth, her parents before her birth, or her family. All Aziza knew was Adrian and Zara, and the small home and simple life they'd created in the olive groves of Israel. She knew that Adrian worked for a company of some kind- for he'd often been gone for long periods of time, and he never talked about work, saying that it was boring and she wouldn't be interested. She also knew that Zara was a seamstress, a very good seamstress- and that she'd eventually opened her own shop in Be'er Sheva, because Aziza remembered spending afternoons helping her mother sort the material or stock the thread.

Overall, they had lived fairly well-

"Tim." Aziza looked up, as the agent turned to his partner. "It is nearly midnight." He nodded, watching her try to hide a yawn, unsuccessfully. He chuckled softly.

"We'd better go." He turned back to Aziza. "Thank you, for letting us visit with all of you, but we'd better get back to our hotel." They stood, giving Aziza a small smile, before making their way from the living room.

"You're leaving?" The pair turned to Neda, who, like all her siblings, had sat listening, enraptured, by the story of her great-grandparents' struggle to survive. "But... but you aren't done, are you?"

"No, but it is late, and we have kept you up. And we both need to sleep as well-"

"You will stay with us." The couple turned back as Aziza stood. They shared a glance, unsure if they'd heard correctly or not.

"That's... very kind, but... our hotel isn't very far from here. And you must already have a full house, the last thing you need is a couple of strangers taking up space." Ziva nodded, slipping her hand into his and squeezing.

"Nonsense, you are not taking up any more space than my grandchildren are." She replied, nodding to the four kids sitting on the floor. A chorus of annoyed voices met her, and she held up a hand before getting up. "You have given me my parents back, and you both still have so much more to teach me of them. I_ insist_ that you both stay the night. We can pick up the story in the morning, and it will be easier if you are already here." When she got no response, she nodded. "Good. You two do not mind sharing the sofa?"

By the time everyone went to bed, Tim and Ziva had been given spare clothes to change into for bed, and had grabbed their to-go bags from the trunk- something that was necessary when one was a federal agent, and used to going various places on a whim, wherever the case took them, such as Berlin. Both were wondering exactly where everyone was going to sleep; turned out, the sisters made these nights one big sleepover, and Levi put up with it; Yael and Michael all had their own homes, only a walk from the house, which they retired to, promising to be back in the morning, but the kids often stayed over at Aziza's, taking her old bedroom and the guest room and doubling up.

Neither Ziva nor Tim minded the sofa; it was highly likely that both would end up on the floor anyway, since neither shared a bed particularly well unless they were dog-tired and out cold, but tonight, with everything that had been going on, neither could sleep. So they sat on the sofa, talking softly. Honestly, this surprised them both- a stroke of dumb luck that brought them to the house, and both were convinced they would wake up the next morning in their hotel room, to find this having been nothing more than an exhaust-driven dream.


	167. Chapter 167

**Rifiuto: Non Miriena**

**Thanks to Reader aka Sun Samurai for reviewing 166.**

_"I survived only to live with the nagging question, 'What distinguished me from [the Jews]?"_

_- Sigmund Sobolewski __(1923 - ), Polish Catholic; 88th Prisoner to Enter Auschwitz on Very first Transport to Auschwitz_

Be'er Sheva, Israel

4:00 A.M.

_It was quiet, the dirt cool beneath her feet. She stopped, finding herself beneath a branch. In the darkness, the olives seemed to reach for her, begging to be removed from the branch. After a moment, she reached up, gently plucking the olive from the branch, yet she didn't place it in the basket. She rolled it between her fingers, feeling the soft, supple skin beneath her fingers; her mind flashed back to when she was a child and her mother taught her how to pit olives. She didn't remember the technique, but she remembered her mother's words from that day. They had haunted her for years._

_"You have lived lifetimes, my Zahrah. Many lifetimes. Too many for a such a young child to bear."_

_She swallowed, setting the basket down and turning her attention to the olive. A moment passed, before she slowly removed the pit, and then bit into the olive. It was strong, not quite sour, but tart, and after a moment of allowing herself to get used to the taste, she forced herself to swallow. But her stomach revolted, and she soon found herself on her knees, gagging. She slid her fingers down the back of her throat; blood and bile painted the dirt at her feet, and she gasped for air. It wasn't the olive itself, but the painful memories it had brought back to the surface that had made her sick to her stomach. The fruit had only made it worse._

_When she finally sat up, she sat back, leaning against a tree and pulling her knees to her chest, resting her head atop them. The breeze was warm, and she closed her eyes, drawing deep breaths and whispering Adrian's words, even as her mind rebelled against what he'd told her. Her life had everything to do with the past and nothing to do with the present or future. She was a child of the past, that much was clear. Her parents had been very set in their old-fashioned ways, even within the ghetto, and Zara, watching and living under those ways, had grown up with those very same rules pounding themselves into even the tiniest crevices of her brain. Unlike her brother and older sister, who had chosen to fight the liquidation of the ghetto, Zara had found herself too cowardly to do anything other than allow the Nazis do as they wished; when Miriam had pushed her into the sewer that day, she had resisted, even though her life was at stake if she stayed. Her family and the treatment they suffered as Jews was all she'd ever known; she didn't have the strength or bravery like Miriam had to fight for life._

_She was nothing more than a coward; a woman who deserved nothing less than death. Adrian and Aziza deserved better-_

_"Zara?"_

_Slowly, she lifted her head, finding Adrian standing over her. After a moment, he knelt beside her. She returned her head to her knees, rocking slowly back and forth. Without a word, he stood, pulling her gently to her feet and then grabbing the basket. As he walked her back towards the house, he tightened his hold on her waist._

_Once they were back inside, he set the basket on the island and fixed two cups of tea before going to the sofa and sitting beside her. They were silent, before he sighed. "Talk to me, Zara. Please." She glanced at the cup, sniffling. "Zara, this can't all be because of Azi, or us. Sweetheart, this can't be because of Ziva; it was not your fault."_

_"It is not because of Ziva, Adrian, it... it is because of me." He furrowed a brow, confused._

_"You had no choice, love. She wouldn't have survived the camp even if she'd taken her first breath. There was nothing you could do."_

_She shook her head, tears slipping down her cheeks as she took a shaky breath. "But she was our baby, Adrian, and I loved her. Just as I love you and Aziza and just as I loved my parents, and your parents, and Gerda and Miriam and Levi and Conrad and Corinna and Chava. And I cost them their lives. How can I not think... for one moment, that I am not the reason your family is gone?" She shifted, pulling her legs beneath her and meeting his gaze, pressing a hand to her chest. "Adrian, the center... the center of all this pain... of all the horror you lived through and pain you carry... is because of me."_

_He moved closer, shaking his head as he reached up to caress her cheek. "Zara, my love, my wife... how can you even consider thinking that? This isn't you, wife. I know it isn't."_

_She pulled away. "This is me, Adrian. This is what I made of myself, this is what I became, a... a monster. I... I am poison, Adrian. I kill everyone I love, everyone I touch." She pulled away, getting up. "I killed my sister and your parents, and your sister and Conrad... I killed our Ziva..."_

_"Zara, you have to stop think-" She turned to him, stopping halfway to the kitchen._

_"This is not who I wanted to be! I did not want to cause all this pain..." He got up, going to her. Gently, cautiously, he slid his hands along her waist, holding her even as he kept his distance._

_"I know. You wanted to be a midwife, and..." He sighed. "Marry a good Jewish boy and have children-"_

_"How do you know that?"_

_"Eva told me once." He shook his head. "She was wise beyond her years, like you." Zara glanced at the space between them._

_"Those were my secrets. They..." She met his gaze. "They were supposed to stay buried."_

_He slid his arms tighter around her waist, gently moving her closer, even as she resisted. "I know, love." He studied her gaze. "That little girl, the little girl you once were-"_

_"That little girl was strong." She interrupted. "Despite her parents old ways of thinking, she was still strong. She could... she could have walked away from her parents' world and their ideals for her life... and things..." She swallowed. "And maybe things could have been different. Things would have been different, if she'd walked away sooner."_

_"Things were different, my love. You escaped the ghetto, you survived Auschwitz, that is a feat in and of itself. It's never too late, Zara."_

_She met his gaze, before lowering it. "Yes it is, Adrian. It has always been too late."_

_He tugged her closer, until she was flush against him. "No, I don't believe that." He studied her face, brushing a strand off her cheek. "There is plenty of time left in your life to make a new list, my wife. Maybe I could help with that." She lowered her head, taking a shaky breath, and he quickly slid a finger beneath her chin, lifting her head. "Zara, wife, the universe is practically begging you to wipe the slate clean. Don't you think it's time?" _

_She swallowed, burrowing into him, tucking her head beneath his chin, breaking down. He stroked her hair, swaying gently back and forth as he let her cry. _


	168. Chapter 168

**Rifiuto: Non Miriena**

_"To forget the dead would be akin to killing them a second time."_

_- Elie Wiesel __(1928 - )_

_Be'er Sheva, Israel_

_The Next Morning_

_4:00 A.M. _

At some time during the night, Tim had stretched out on the floor with a pillow and blanket, conceding the sofa to Ziva, who, in her sleep, not only snored like a drunken sailor, but was some sort of bed gymnast, somehow taking up the majority of the bed and shoving him to the furthest edge of the it, if not the very topmost right corner if he didn't curl around her at night and hold tight, stopping her from moving. On a sofa, the battle was ten times worse, and so at some point, he just decided to leave her the sofa, preferring the floor to being shoved between the cushions while she took the rest of the makeshift bed.

Slowly, he opened his eyes, reaching for his cell and checking the time. It didn't surprise him that it was four in the morning, what surprised him was that he found he had no use of his right hand. One look to the right told him why. Ziva had stretched out on the sofa, and, invisible under the blankets except for her face and mas of dark curls, was snoring away. One arm was hanging down the side of the sofa-

And, Tim realized, had attached itself to his.

They had slept all night holding hands, their fingers laced loosely together.

After a moment, he sat up, gently extracting his hand from hers and getting up. He quickly grabbed a few things from his bag and slipped into the bathroom; once he'd changed into his running gear, he returned to the living room, taking a seat in one of the armchairs and pulling on his running shoes. There was no reason to abandon his running schedule just because he was clear on the other end of the world. As he grabbed his headphones and slipped them in, something fell out of his jacket pocket.

He picked it up, slowly unfolding it.

_Dearest Tante,_

He recognized the handwriting- it was Adrian's. As he skimmed the letter, he suddenly realized that it had been in the fireplace with the compass, photographs, the leaflet and Zara's prayer book. For some reason, he'd written it and then hidden it with the other things in the small compartment in the fireplace. Sighing, he refolded it and slipped it back into his pocket before sliding his jacket into his bag. Then, he slipped his headphones into his ears and got up, heading for the front door. As he made his way down the steps, he stopped, narrowly missing the other person passing him.

"Oh, sorry. I didn't see you." He pulled his headphones from his ears, turning, to find Yael standing before him, her own headphones around her neck. "What are you doing out here, Agent McGee?"

"Going for a run. You?" She nodded.

"Same." They stood in silence for several minutes, before she met his gaze. "Care to join me?" Silence filled the void as they took off, both remaining in their own little space. Eventually, however, Yael spoke up. "Why are you doing this?"

"Doing what?" He glanced at her.

"Telling_ Ima_ about her parents?"

He shrugged. "It's a mystery that needed to be solved." She grumbled at that, and he furrowed a brow. "So... you don't want to know what happened to your grandparents?"

"It's not that. I know them- I knew them." She corrected herself, a twinge of sadness flashing across her face. "I was raised in that house. I learned to walk in that living room; I learned to talk in that kitchen. I helped_ Savta_ pick olives in the afternoons, and watched_ Saba_ create beautiful works of are with nothing but wood and a few tools on that porch. I remember my siblings and I rushing down the steps to meet_ Saba_ and _Abba_ when they returned from wherever they had gone for work after months away. _Savta_ and_ Saba_ helped_ Ima_ and_ Abba_ raise my siblings and I."

"How many of you are there?"

"Four. Elisabeth, Zipporah, Michael and I. I'm the oldest and Michael the youngest. Lisbeth and Zippi were identical twins; both died within four years of each other, back in the nineties. Lisbeth was killed in an air strike in Tel Aviv by the Palestinians in ninety; three years later, her husband, Eli Haswari was killed on a mission in Lebanon, and then Zippi was killed a year later in ninety-four, in a bombing in Amman. My middle daughter Corinna died in a Palestinian air strike two weeks before her third birthday... this family has suffered many tragedies, Agent McGee. The last thing we need is to be reminded of the tragedies that do nothing but haunt the past. Those should stay in the past, not make their way into our present."

"But don't you think it would be better to know of them? To know of the people you come from, the lives they lived and the hardships they overcame? Isn't it better knowing that the reason you are here now is because of those who came before?" Yael stopped, turning to him.

"Look, Agent McGee, I understand what you and Officer _Da_vid are doing for _Ima_, and I appreciate it, I just don't see why you had to bring back everything that she's tried so hard to bury. It was hard enough, watching her bury both her parents within hours of each other, but for her to _relive_ these memories of theirs- memories that _aren't_ even hers-" She stopped.

"Wait, so..._ both_ Adrian and Zara are dead?" She nodded. "How long?"

Yael swallowed, glancing back towards the house. She sighed, turning back to the agent. "Come on. I have something to show you."

She led him a mile from the running trail, through a small olive grove-

"It's a cemetery." She nodded, pushing open the small gate and beckoning him to follow her. It was small, with a small brick-and-iron fence around it; inside, were hundreds of graves, all buried and facing toward Jerusalem, as was custom. They picked their way through the stones, finally coming to a small plot in the far back, beneath a small cluster of olive trees. Several stones lay within the plot, all smooth granite, each with a Star of David and several pebbles. As they moved through the plot, Yael pointed to each one, reciting the name of the person buried beneath.

"Lisbeth is over there, in the far side, and Eli is beside her. Zippi is on the other side of her; they were twins; it did not seem right to separate them, even in death, so they lie beside each other. My Corrina is over on the right, buried near Simon ben Michael, my father._ Ima_'s stone is beside his; it is ready when she is ready." She told of the history of the stones and the symbols upon them, why the stones always faced towards Jerusalem instead of away-

Finally, they stopped.

The stone they stood before was simple granite. It was one large, simple stone, but so beautiful at the same time. He glanced at Yael, who nodded and stepped back. Slowly, Tim made his way towards it, kneeling down to read the engraving. Beneath the Hebrew, were two names- names he'd only ever seen on slips of paper- names he knew by heart now.

He glanced over his shoulder at Yael. "Hirsch?" She nodded.

"_Ima_ always said that _Savta_ wanted her maiden name on her tomb, to remind her of where she came from. Silly, really." He didn't reply, just turned back to the stone; in beautiful script, was the name _Fromm_ at the top of the stone, the entwined Star and oak leaf right beneath it, separating the space on the stone, like the sign hanging by the door of the house. Cautiously, he reached out, brushing his fingers over the name on the left, his heart skipping a beat.

_Zara Hirsch_

_November 12th, 1925 - September 12th, 2000_

_Beloved Daughter, Wife, Mother, Grandmother_

"She died nearly six years ago." Yael nodded, silent. This was Zara; this was the girl he'd been looking for, the young Jewess who bore such a resemblance to Ziva, who an entire family had risked their lives to save...

He turned to the right, finding the same Hebrew; his gaze moved quickly over it, before moving down to the name beneath it.

_Adrian Fromm_

_September 12th, 1923 - September 12th, 2000_

_Beloved Son, Husband, Father, Grandfather_

"They both did." Beneath their names, was one simple phrase,

_Ahavah Olam_

_Eternal Love_

Adrian. He had_ finally_ found_ Adrian_. The missing member of the White Rose, the young German who'd stood against Hitler and risked his life to protect the young Jewish girl he'd fallen in love with, the young man who'd illegally adopted an orphan and then managed to get his young family out of Germany after the rise of the Berlin Wall, taking them across central Europe before finally building the simple house in Be'er Sheva, where they spent the rest of their days...

"It is believed, in the Hebrew religion, that only those who are blessed are allowed to die on the day of their birth." Yael swallowed. "They died nearly six years ago, on the same day, in the same room, the same bed I was born in, within minutes of each other. _Saba_ had cancer; it was like..." She sniffled. "All _Savta_ did was curl around him and... kiss his cheek and... then she..." Tim met her gaze. "She knew. As soon as _Saba_ stopped breathing, she knew that she would not be long for this earth... how she lived without him in the camps..." She stopped, tears sliding down her cheeks. "I do not see how she could have survived such hell without him by her side. They loved each other so deeply, Agent McGee, that they could not bear separation."

Tim turned back to the stone, gently brushing his fingers against the names- to the very people he and Ziva had spent the last... nearly year... searching for. And they were right here, beneath his fingertips; their bodies lying cold beneath the earth, with the olive trees providing shade from Israel's constant heat.

"There are some times, Agent McGee, when souls are so deeply connected it is physically painful to be apart."

Tim sighed. What he'd been searching for-_ who_, he'd been searching for- had finally come to an end. But there was still the matter of _what_ happened to them after the war, and_ why_ they seemed to simply disappear from the pages of history. Though he may have_ finally_ found Adrian and Zara, this case was far from closed.


	169. Chapter 169

**Rifiuto: Non Miriena**

**A/N: This chapter skips ahead a couple years... - Licia**

_"And let us not forget Margot, who kept her own diary, which was never found."_

_- Miep Gies (1909 - 2010__)_

Be'er Sheva, Israel

8 February, 1955

3:00 P.M.

_Aziza skipped into the house, dark braids bouncing. There were two weeks before her ninth birthday, and in that time, Vati had left on two "missions" as he called them, but he would never explain what they were or where he went, but he always made a habit of returning a month earlier than he promised. Usually, he came back looking worse for wear, with stubble on his cheeks that tickled when he kissed her, and a few bruises, but he always came back whole. And he would always allow her to rush to him before going to Ima- _

_And he was always dropped off by "Uncle Simon" as Aziza had taken to calling the older man with the thinning hair and mustache- the man who always remembered to bring back a candy or trinket for her from wherever their missions took them. As for Vati, him coming home okay was the best gift he could give her and Ima. _

_She skidded to a stop in the living room; Ima wasn't in the living room or the kitchen. "Ima?" She got no response from the bedrooms or the bathroom, and after a moment, she stepped out onto the porch, dropping her book bag by the door. The olive groves Ima loved to look at stretched out before her, and after a moment of watching, she saw someone move among the trees. Instantly, she recognized the gait, and rushed down the steps towards the woman. "Ima! Ima!" _

_Her mother turned to her, long dark hair flowing down her back. Zara gave her daughter a small smile, setting the basket on the ground and allowing her daughter to throw her arms around her. Aziza snuggled into her mother's embrace. After a moment, she picked at the sleeve of her mother's light blouse, gently tugging it down. As Zara reached up, brushing a hand against her daughter's cheek, Aziza's gaze lit on the numbers on her arm. Though they were faded with time, Aziza still knew the numbers, for she had spent the good majority of her young life tracing her small fingers over it._

_A-169537_

_They were numbers Ima never explained, about something neither she nor Vati ever talked about except quietly with each other, after Aziza had gone to bed. Zara pressed a soft kiss to her daughter's head. "How was school, little love?" She lifted her head to look up at her mother. Even though Zara was not yet thirty, she was still as beautiful as ever; while most of her friends' mothers were starting to thing and go grey, Zara's was still as thick and dark the darkest chocolate. It was still soft and silky, and still smelled of the jasmine oil she would rub into it after a bath. If anything, Aziza's parents still looked like teenagers, not the adults they were. _

_"Okay." She shrugged. Zara raised an eyebrow as she pulled away and picked up the basket she'd filled with olives. She let Aziza slide her hand into hers as they walked back to the house._

_"Just okay?" The girl shrugged again. She still had five months before her ninth birthday, but each passing day just reminded her that Vati was gone on mission and most likely wouldn't be back before her birthday, like he promised. So for now, it was just her and Ima, spending girl time together. _

_"I got into a fight today." She admitted, looking up at Zara as they made their way up the steps to the porch. Her mother stopped, turning to her. _

_"Aziza! You know Vati and I do not encourage fighting!" _

_"But he deserved it." She muttered, following her mother into the house. _

_"I highly doubt the boy deserved it. No one deserves to get hurt... or be killed... simply for who they are..." Aziza cocked her head to the side as she took a seat at the table. A moment passed as Zara shook her head. "Not important." She turned to her daughter. "What did this poor boy do to deserve getting into a fight with you?" The girl kept quiet, and after a moment, Zara took the basket and dumped the olives into a strainer, which she quickly used to rinse the olives of the outdoors._

_"Solomon Rubinstein. I punched him." Zara turned the faucet off, grabbing two bowls and dumping half of the now-rinsed olives off into each._

_"Uh-huh." She bit her lower lip, turning and placing one bowl at the far edge of the counter, towards her daughter, who stood up to get it. She then began working on the olives in her own bowl. "And... what did Solomon do to deserve being punched, Aziza?" The girl stopped pitting olives, ducking her head. She thought a moment, before looking up at her mother. _

_"He... he said..." Zara waited, leaning on the counter. _

_"Said what?" The child bit her lip and then muttered something. "What did you say?"_

_"He said that... he said he liked me."_

_Zara raised an eyebrow, clearly surprised. "Well..." She struggled to think of something else to say as the phone rang. "Then he deserved... how dare he say something like that." She grabbed the phone, slipping it between her shoulder and ear. "Hello?" Her gasp caused Aziza to look up from her task, and after a moment, she joined her mother._

_"Ima, who is it?" Zara slid an arm around her daughter's shoulders._

_"Vati." She whispered, before turning back to the call. "No... Iza's here. Uh-huh... no, she was just telling me about a fight she got into at school... you'll have to ask her..." A moment passed, before she held the phone out to Aziza. "He wants to know why you got into a fight, and if he needs to come home." _

_"... he deserved it, Vati, he said he liked me..." She listened as Aziza once more relayed the events of the afternoon over the phone to Adrian, before, __"Ima?" Quickly rinsing and drying her hands, she returned to the phone, taking it from her daughter. As Aziza returned to pitting olives, she listened intently as her mother spoke._

_"No, I know... because he liked her... no, I do not know who she gets it from... not me... you have been known to beat someone to a pulp for hurting those you love..." Aziza's ears perked up, but Zara quickly changed the subject, glancing at her daughter. "Where are you?... so, you will not be home... I understand... no, no need to explain, Iza understands too... she has always understood why her Vati has to go away... we need you home, Adrian... I miss you, husband." She beckoned Aziza over, and once the child joined her, she slid her arm around the girl's shoulders, pulling her close. After a moment, she held the phone out to her daughter. _

_"Vati... mmhmm... I will... I love you, too, Vati..." As she handed the phone back to Zara, she slid her arms around her mother's waist, resting her head against her, feeling the vibrations of her chest as she spoke._

_"... I know, husband..." Aziza looked up as Zara quickly wiped tears off her cheeks. "... find him so you can come home..." She rested her free hand against her heart, wincing, as though each beat was painful. "we need you... we miss you... I will... I love you, too... so much... I love you..."_

_"Ima?" She watched as her mother slowly hung up, giving her a small smile._

_"Vati told me to give you lots of hugs and kisses, and that each one is from him..."_

_"Are you okay, Ima?" Aziza bit her lip, frightened. She knew it was hard on Ima when Vati went away for work, but she'd never seen her mother so upset, and she'd never seen her appear in so much pain, for she kept clutching at her chest, as though her heart was clawing through her skin with each beat._

_"I am okay, little love." She gave her daughter a small smile. "I just miss Vati." After a moment, she held out her arms. "Come here." As Aziza let her mother hug her tight and kiss her repeatedly on the cheeks and forehead, she clutched at her mother, fearing the tears in her mother's eyes and the painful, almost broken, beat of her heart. _


End file.
